The Thorn and Her Golden Rose (A Gender-Bent Story)
by PagesofAngels
Summary: Their days in Persia have ended, but Erika and Nadir still find their lives intertwined in the shadows of Paris. Their bond unexpectedly becomes permanent after a drunken night five stories underground, and Nadir realizes he truly has fallen in love with a monster. Suddenly lives are very much on the line, and the two strike a deal that cannot be broken. (Kay-inspired AU)
1. Chapter 1: A Night of Cards and Gin

_**Author's Note:** This is partially an archived roleplay. This story is co-authored by [Unknown/Changed Username] on Tumblr. She wrote many of Nadir's narrations and dialogue, and I give her full credit for all the amazing things she added when we were plotting this together.  
_

 _ **DISCLAIMER: This story has nothing at all to do with "The Mirage of the Opera". It is not set in the same universe nor is any of the backstory coherent with it. This is a separate AU.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 1: A Night of Cards and Gin**

"You always let me win, Nadir." Erika tossed her cards onto the table. "I barely know how to play poker. Either you're letting me win, or you're sincerely that pathetic at cards."

"Is it such a bad wish to lighten your mood, Erika?" The Persian sighed, abandoning his own cards as well. "It is the opposite of an easy task." Or, one could say, perhaps even impossible. Besides, he knew too well how much his friend despised to be defeated.

He was long since used to her grimness, which had only grown in the last few months – ever since she took the young new tenor under her wing. Something about him had possessed Erika, and suddenly the Mirage that stalked the opera's halls was dedicating her days to mentoring the lad.

"I'm surprised you made time to play a few hands. You are obsessed with that boy."

"I am not obsessed," Erika defended herself. "He is my student, and therefore it's my duty to take his affairs into consideration."

Nadir shook his head. "Erika, you forbid him to engage or see any young lady. That is not something one would do if not obsessed."

"I simply refuse to let him participate with lowlifes," Erika shrugged, gathering up the cards. "I plan to bring him up from the status of a beggar boy to a gleaming star."

"While that may be a kind wish, Erika, what I'm concerned about is how you plan to do that," Nadir said. How many innocents might suffer? Besides, could he sincerely trust she saw only a student and not a perverse obsession in that boy?

"I own this building and everyone in it, dear friend," Erika said. "The right tug on the strings, and I can make them dance however I want." She smirked at him as she rose to put away the playing cards. "You should know that. I convinced you I was worth being spared the fate of a harem girl."

It was certainly useless to try and explain to Erika once again the Opera Populaire did not belong to her, let alone the people in it. Once the Mirage found power, she would hold onto it with claws and teeth.

Nadir shook his head. "You were no mere harem girl, Erika. You were the most exquisite and dangerous creature I had ever met...a genius. But aside from that, I owed you for Reza's painless demise." The Persian felt a sting in his heart, mentioning his son.

Erika turned her back on the Persian and shut her eyes. It still hurt to remember the little boy.

* * *

 _Nadir had taken her into his home in Mazandaran, despite knowing she was a woman. And a woman not of his faith, no less. His home was the only place she could shed the disguise of a man she had adopted to procure her position as the royal family's assassin. His son, Reza – the poor, ill child – had taken a liking to her quite quickly. Only a child desperate for a mother would cling to someone like her in that way, or so she had thought at first._

 _Despite her better judgement, Erika had eventually found herself bonding with Reza. Often, she found herself playing the violin at the foot of the child's bed when he had trouble sleeping. Other times, she quietly listened as he told her personal stories, his enthusiastic interests, his hopes for a future he would never see. Once or twice, she allowed the boy to sit in her lap while she read aloud from tomes of folklore and myth._

 _Neither she nor Nadir had ever mentioned it, but it almost became a domestic situation between the three of them. Erika had never had a proper family unit, and Nadir's family had been shattered with the death of his wife. It was pleasant, finding herself the honorary member of a loving family._

 _But nothing pleasant ever lasts._

 _When Reza's health had declined into a terminal stage, Erika and Nadir both had agreed on ending his suffering. Never before had Erika killed for mercy, but it was the hardest thing she had ever done._

 _She had made it quick and painless, staying with the oblivious young boy until the sleeping powder took effect. The strangulation was never felt on his part, but she would be haunted by the memory of his throat under her hands forever. Nadir had walked into the room to find her how she had hoped he wouldn't: cradling his son's body in her arms, tears falling from under her mask._

* * *

Erika shook her head to regain her composure. She set the cards atop her writing desk and said: "You didn't need to come with me. You know that. They thought me dead, and likely still do. You could've stayed where you weren't an outsider."

Slowly, Nadir closed the gap between himself and Erika, laying his hands on her slender shoulders. He always felt a little hesitant to touch her, for pushing the Mirage over her edge would not be a wise decision. Yet, he longed so deeply to comfort her.

* * *

 _Reza had become isolated after falling ill. The poor child's world shrank into a narrow window that was never able to peek beyond their garden. Thus, he became sad. That little mind desired to laugh and learn, but it was denied that joy. The police chief's heart had wept, helpless against his son's cruel fate. It bled watching a pure young soul fade together with its small body, slowly slaughtered by sickness._

 _And when all hope had at last been lost to Nadir, and he began silently counting Reza's final days, he'd brought Erika into their home._

 _He'd discovered the true gender of the Shah's young assassin by pure accident. He had found the Angel of Death in an obscure corner of the Shah's palace. Erika had been sewing closed a gash in her side given to her by the last target she'd been assigned to. He caught her just as she was pulling a thread of catgut through her flesh using a needle of bone. The veil that always hid her face had been pulled aside in disarray. The bloodstained tunic she wore had been pulled up enough to expose the bindings around her chest. And like that, he finally understood why the Angel never spoke in more than a whisper._

 _One of them would have died by her hand that night had Nadir not sworn by his blood to hold her secret. After much internal debate, the police chief decided to keep this strange creature hidden in his home until her wound healed. It was a peace offering, proof he would cause her no harm if she caused him no harm. He would be the one to help her recoup, with no need to call a physician who would not hesitate to reveal the truth to the Shah._

 _The first weeks in his abode she was like an injured wild animal, eager to be released from her captivity once nursed back to health. Yet, as her interactions with his son became more frequent, her disposition became more relaxed. That was when Nadir came to know Erika, and not the Angel of Death._

 _Deep in his heart, the Persian knew it wasn't any medicine that granted Reza a few more months. It was her presence. She gifted him happiness once again in that innocent mind; a mother he never knew. She would entertain him and play music for him, and even speak to him for hours. Who could have ever thought Mazandaran's most feared assassin could unveil such a gentle face?_

 _Gradually, Nadir came to realize his soul was still capable of adoration. He was a man already turning silver at thirty-eight, and he was separated from her in age by over a decade. Yet day-by-day she began to change in his eyes. The sharpness of her tongue and her dark forbearance began to hold an otherworldly allure._

 _That creature who was both a monster and a woman, an assassin and an artist…he loved her. He felt it when she played her violin at the windowsill on those dry, hot evenings. He felt it when he saw her sleep on the cushions in the parlor, her mask placed aside, and her half-missing face bared to the candlelight. When he could look upon her like that and say, truly, that he found her beautiful, he knew he loved her._

 _And he never uttered a whisper of it._

 _The Angel of Death's secret couldn't stay hidden forever. Weeks after Reza's funeral, Erika was brought before the Shah to confirm his suspicions. Nadir had been forced to confess what he knew, under threat of his friend being forcefully disrobed in front of the royal court. She was given two options: a torturous execution, or imprisonment as one of the Shah's concubines. Erika selected the latter to keep herself alive until nightfall. After sunset, she and Nadir carried out the plan they'd devised in the days before her summons. Nadir was only expected to have a horse waiting in the streets for her, and to have faith she'd make it out of the palace alive. But he had supplied a second mare for himself. Together, they rode across the desert sands until well into the dawn. They fled the city, fled Persia, with no intention of looking back._

* * *

A sad smile crept onto his smooth, brownish pink lips. "No, Erika. I had no choice but to follow you. I was banished." The Persian gently squeezed his old friend's shoulders from behind. "Yet had I not been, I still would have come with you."

Nadir was the only human being Erika allowed physical contact with her. Had it been anyone else, her – rather violent – instincts would have activated from such sudden touch. "Banished?" she asked, standing there and allowing him to keep his hands on her. "For keeping a woman in your house? Or for denying the Shah another whore?"

Nadir sighed. Always so blunt in words, was she not? "Banished for treason," he said, as if speaking about the weather outside. "After all, I do have royal blood in me." His words held no pride. "He may have seen me as a threat."

Erika chuckled, slowly removing his hands from her shoulders. "Don't be so cocky," she said, leaving to open a bottle of gin she kept on the countertop. "You? A political threat? Unlikely."

"Well, likely not." A tiny smile curled Nadir's lips. "Yet, you know the Shah…he sees threats everywhere. Even in me."

"Yes," Erika agreed, pouring them two small glasses of the clear alcohol. "A pity he didn't see enough of a threat in me."

"He was a fool not to."

"Care to join me for a drink?"

Nadir nodded, taking up a glass. "Certainly. My gratitude, old friend."

Erika toasted her drink to him. "My pleasure."

The Mirage was a notorious lightweight to any who had seen her drink. She always meant to limit herself to one glass, yet…not always. But that night, with a guest in her house, she intended to remain firm with herself.

"How has Paris been treating you?" she asked, taking her first sip.

Nadir raised his glass as well before draining it quickly. He did not drink often, preferring very much to remain sharp. After all, he alone had a hope of talking the Mirage out of her madness. He felt he needed to be her neutralizer.

"Ah," he sighed with a small smile, lowering the glass. "Like one would suspect it to treat an unknown foreigner from the East. Yet, I cannot complain."

"Well, as I am in your debt," Erika paused to finish off her glass, "if you experience any kind of violent prejudice, contact me. I'll take care of it for you." She left her glass at her side, intending on keeping it empty the rest of the night.

Nadir sighed deeply. "Erika, I hope you do remember. You gave me your word, you shall never kill again." Perhaps it was unwise to trust the word of the Mirage…but she was his only companion in that damnable city.

"Correction, I said I would never again assassinate an innocent," Erika said. "I do not consider a racist an innocent." She glanced at the bottle and held it out, offering without words to refill his glass. "You seem compelled to dampen my spirits today."

"Those people simply do not understand it, Erika. I worry not about them. I have not met any discrimination which would truly impact my life for the worse," Nadir assured her, unwilling for anyone to die. "Please, if only you drink with me, my friend."

With a sigh, Erika refilled her own glass and set the bottle of gin between them. She stood on one side of the counter, and he on the other. Erika sipped on her second drink while brooding.

The warmth of her first glass was already starting to bring color to her ghostly pale cheeks. Perhaps being the daughter of an alcoholic gave her a certain susceptibility, but she didn't mind.

"So, shall I tell you of my plans to promote my student to lead tenor?"

Nadir's jade eyes would not leave Erika's gaze as his rough hand took hold of the bottle to refill his glass. Not a drop of the clear liquid spilled over. "I most certainly would like to hear them," he nodded, hoping no murder was involved.

"Simple," she said. Another quick drink. "I get Carlo fired. Nothing a little blackmail can't do. There's no such thing as a secret to me." She smirked at Nadir. "No bloodshed required."

"Very well," Nadir said, draining another glass. "Yet, I believe you do understand he shall not give up his career without a fight." Not many people he had met in his life were as arrogant or stubborn as the star tenor. The man rivaled the Shah in terms of entitlement.

"He can fight all he wants," Erika said. "I've gathered enough to soil his reputation. And even if I'm lying right now, I could make up something believable." She downed the rest of her drink and shook her head to dispel a cloud of intoxication. Alright, that was certainly enough. "For example, I could tell you something right now and have you guessing the rest of your life if I was being truthful."

Well, nothing less could be expected from her of all people. He tilted his head at her words. What was she speaking about? Alcohol was slowly blurring Nadir's mind as well, making him dizzy. "Don't make me curious and then silence yourself, my Erika. Pray tell."

Erika's laugh was a hum in the back of her throat. "I could tell you I sometimes want to strangle you in your sleep." She hoisted herself onto the counter, sitting on its edge. "You see, because we are both a little over the edge of sober, and I'm always one to blur the lines of fiction and reality…you will always wonder. Wonder if that statement was true, and always wonder why. What could you possibly do to infuriate me to the point of murder?"

Nadir sighed yet again, draining another glass. She was indeed a difficult companion at times. Ha…at times? He couldn't remember a day when she was _not_. The Persian drummed his fingers into the wooden countertop. "Why am I not surprised? You want me to plead, don't you, my dear old friend? Beg you not to leave me wondering? You always desire a helpless victim to be under your thumb in one way or another, you sick woman. And yet, I could never walk away...I could never abandon you."

"Oh, you're so dramatic." Erika felt more of the drink go to her head. "And you never do what I want, either," she playfully pouted. "Maybe that's the reason I want to kill you so much. You're the only person who doesn't fall for my shit."

Nadir chuckled, alcohol slowly dissolving his usual stern, almost grim, attitude. "The pot calls the kettle black, I see."

She laughed a little too much. "God, I hate you."

"You may hate me, Erika, but I love you." The smile on Nadir's face never faltered, as if he didn't fully realize the gravity of his words. "I have always loved you. And no vile thing you could say, no harm you could cause me, shall ever tear you away from my heart."

Erika rolled her eyes. "You think you're so secretive, Nadir. You know nothing about being secretive." She moved a little closer. "I've known since Mazandaran. That you love me, and I hate you." She sighed. "You would make a terrible assassin. No secrets whatsoever."

"No one is secretive when they stand before you, Erika. No secret remains hidden from you." Nadir murmured, taking a step closer as well. His jade eyes pierced firmly into her dark brown ones. "Then good thing remains I'm not an assassin. Neither have I ever intended to be."

Erika grinned and reached out to touch his shoulder. "No, but you are a thief. You've taken far too much of my headspace than I prefer, and without my consent. It interferes with my hobbies."

"Your thinking of me is not something I can change, Erika," Nadir said, grasping her hand and kissing it. He sensed no danger, with the world soaked in gin around him. "Though, I must admit, I'm glad to be bothering you and pulling you away from certain things."

"You're wicked," Erika smirked, gently kicking him in the leg. "How am I supposed to get anything important done with you constantly in my mind?"

"That is not a question I can answer." Nadir raised his hand and caressed a lock of her black hair, a boldness he would never show while sober. "Perhaps it may make you less violent."

"Or more violent, at least in other ways," Erika said, returning the kind gesture by exploring the texture of his facial hair. His eyes had always been such a beautiful, Eastern jade. Like the sacred dragon statues of China.

Her face was rosy and her eyes – just a little bit watery. She knew she was long gone, and she was afraid to get back on her feet. If she did, the dizziness would hit her full force. For the moment, all the rest of the world melted away. It was just her and her old friend, sharing an intimate moment. As someone who envied the beauty of others, Erika never liked touching the faces of others. But with her inhibitions gone, she was fine showing this level of affection to him. At least to him.

"Can you tell me why you tolerate me, Nadir?" she asked.

Had Nadir been sober, he would have realized just how astonishing that small gesture of Erika's was. She did nothing, only stroked his stubby beard. She never touched other people's faces, seemingly too jealous to feel them and not tear them off. She was touching his face without tearing his skin to shreds…it was a display of gentleness in her storm-like nature. He would never have expected. One could never tell just how bitter things sometimes were between the two.

The former Daroga's skin was also flushing red from the heat which the alcohol inspired in his blood. "I have already told you, Erika. I love you. Nothing in this world could ever possibly part me from you."

The more she gazed at him, the more she appreciated every aspect of his natural beauty. The bridge of his nose, the sharpness of his cheeks, the curve of his jaw. All were a brushstroke in the artwork that was his person. It's a common saying that alcohol turns the world aglow, but Erika saw it as more of a truth serum, making things just as bright as they would be without the darkness of the world.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" she asked him with a tipsy smile.

Nadir must have been a madman indeed, for he may have fallen for the Devil herself. Still, even knowing this, he abandoned all defenses and treasured the sensation. May it cost him his head or not, he couldn't tell – nor could he care.

"No, you have not. All you've ever called me is a great booby." The Persian man let out a dizzy, rumbling laugh. "And you may do it again now, when I say that under your mask lies beauty this world is too shallow to understand."

She grinned wider. "Why can you only tell me these things when we're both drunk?" she teased. "Can't you tell me how much you love me at a time when I'll remember it the next day?"

Nadir chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. "Well, my dear Erika, I certainly would if only I didn't have to worry over being strangled for it."

"Well, you've told me now," Erika said, her arms snaking around Nadir's shoulders, "and no one's died yet." Her fingers found their way into his thick mess of black hair. With a sigh, she rested her forehead against his.

The water in her eyes wasn't from drunkenness anymore. "Damn it all, this is just cruel of you Nadir! I'll wake up tomorrow assuming everyone on this planet wants me dead, you included. How could you make me feel so gleeful at a time I won't be able to remember?"

"We are both drunk," Nadir murmured, leaning down and pressing a ghostly kiss to her temple. His thumb sliding up and down her lean spine, feeling each vertebra through the skin. "That is why you have not strangled me yet."

Nadir's drunken smile faded as he saw the bitter tears suddenly spring from her foggy eyes. "Ah, my sweet Erika…forgive me for this. I swear to you, one day I will tell you when we both are sober. My heart will cease beating if I remain silent. Perhaps you will accept me, perhaps you will strike me down. I do not care either way. Just do not weep, my love…" His lips brushed against her eyelids, desperate to dry her tears as he squeezed her firmly to his chest.

"How often do you think you've told me, and neither of us remember?" Erika asked.

"Perhaps never, perhaps countless times…" Nadir sighed, his heart soaring high and sinking low at the same time.

"Well, come what may," she said with a tearful smile, "no matter how I react come daylight, I want to remember tonight. I want us both to remember, whether we like it or not."

Before he could answer, she softly pressed her lips against his own. Her senses were filled with everything she had adored about Persia: the lingering spices, the golden sand, the sweet waters of an oasis. He tasted like the scenery and was warm as the desert. She kept her fingers in his hair, keeping him close to her as she pulled away.

The kiss came as both a striking surprise and something completely expected in that moment. The Persian's breathing hitched, in response to the thing he'd secretly yearned for through all those long years. She tasted so sweet, like honey and blood.

"Yes," he breathed, "nothing matters tonight, beloved…nothing but you and I." Pulling her into yet another passionate kiss, he eased her off the edge of the countertop.

She ran her hands down the length of his torso and softly moaned against his lips. He held her steady as she swayed on her feet, too drunk to stand on her own. Now, of course, she had to gaze up at him – which was a change that was almost comical. At least it was while drunk. The contact between them was heavenly, if a heaven should exist to compare it to.

"Do tell me, old friend," she muttered, "just how will tonight be about us?"

Nadir wondered: in what corner of her mind did she find such false belief that she reeked of death? To Nadir, the scent of her was elegant and intoxicating. May it be tricks of drunkenness, love and desire, or may it be truth, he did not care. His dilated eyes found the gondola that gently rocked on the mirror-like lake not far away.

"Tonight, on this misty lake under blind night," he whispered, leaning down and kissing her neck before sweeping her up into his arms, "we will become one, my friend...my love." With a head spun by alcohol, even _he_ became a poet.

With surprising steadiness for someone so dizzy, he carried Erika like a bride to the dock and placed her on the cushions of the small boat. He joined her, his weight bobbing the vessel as he climbed on top of her. He pulled her into a deep kiss yet again, his large hand on the back of her neck. Every tiniest fiber of his being felt on fire, desperate to be hers and to make her his.

Erika laughed as he settled himself over her. She laughed at the ones who had hurt her all those years ago, made her afraid of trusting a man with her safety and well-being. The last time a man had been over her she had been unwilling, petrified with terror as she could only let herself be violated. Now here she was, absolutely in a state of bliss, she and her partner at play together.

Erika marveled at the poetic nature of making love in the gondola. Not even she could have thought of it sober, let alone with gin in her veins. "Honestly, Nadir," she panted between the meeting of their lips, "if this isn't a sign of what you and I have wanted from each other…then we must be mad."

Nadir kissed Erika's forehead, pulling her even closer, longing more than anything to show her what it meant to love and be loved – to soar in ecstasy and wallow in passion. He yearned to make her forget the soul-wrecking past and surrender to their feelings. He wanted so much for her to embrace him, touch him, trust him with her body.

The Persian brushed his lips against her slender neck, tasting her skin, nibbling under her chin. "Yes… we _are_ mad…and we _have_ desired this from each other," he whispered. A calloused hand slithered under her shirt, begging for closeness. For a moment, they ceased being the Daroga and the Mirage, they were nothing but a woman and a man.

She didn't want to talk anymore. Erika pulled the pins from her hair, allowing it to fall across her shoulders. The metal pins were carelessly tossed aside, and Erika heard them quietly plunk into the black water.

A shiver ran through her as Nadir's hand explored the skin pulled across her ribs and spine. For such a reserved man, it was a wonder he could be so effortlessly sensual. His wife had likely been the happiest woman in Persia. Not much information was known to her about the wife Nadir had lost, but she had always assumed she had been breathtaking in every sense. The fact he was now freely giving himself to someone like her…it meant the world. The universe.

With trembling fingers, she undid the buttons of her waistcoat and fearlessly bared her chest to him. She wasn't afraid of being rejected, he had long since accepted nearly every aspect of her.

Nadir moaned at such sweet sight suddenly unveiled for his eyes alone, watching hungrily every button slip open, that lovely pale bosom spring bare. Such a contrast with her beautiful black hair now passionately loose. He caught Erika's gaze, jade eyes glowing from passion, before leaning down and pressing light kisses to each of her breasts. Though his lips soon slithered up, tongue tracing her collarbones. He kissed her neck ardently and gently tugged on her dark locks from time to time.

The former Daroga did not even notice how his own hands tore his shirt and jacket away. Soon his scarred, warm mahogany skin was pressed against her cold naked torso. Caressing her breasts in each of his palms, he whispered: "You are so beautiful, my Erika," and claimed her lips deeply.

Her whole body arched into his as he nipped at her neck. Their breath was being shared in the space between them, adding more silver mist to the air. The light of one-thousand candles lit Nadir's face. The dancing shadows played across his body and the flames burned in his eyes. God, he was purely magnificent.

"As are you," she said, and she gently pushed him back until she was able to climb into his lap, eagerly biting his neck as if she wanted to draw droplets of blood. Her hair fell over her back like a mourning curtain. Her hands traveled down his sides, coming to rest at his hips.

Nadir sat back on the cushions, gladly allowing Erika to straddle him. One arm wrapped around her waist to pull her closer. He tilted his head, allowing her to nibble on his neck. Gasping in delight, his fingers found her hair and tangled in those lush black locks only to slide down and grasp her thighs firmly.

A bit clumsily from both excitement and drink, Erika began to undo Nadir's complicated belt buckle. His trousers were already tented out by his trapped erection. She could feel it throbbing under her palms, begging to be freed. "How…how long have you wanted to see me unclothed, Nadir?" she teased, kissing his face lovingly. "I've known of your affection since Mazandaran, but…how long have you _wanted_ me?"

The tightness in Nadir's pants was undeniable, aching and devious. He was longing to feel himself sink inside Erika's warm moist core, to feel them two at last becoming one. "Does it matter now, my dearest? I will have you now," the Persian purred. He returned the favor and undid her own trousers with the speed of an expert – all the while lightly biting down on her jawline.

Before long, Nadir's pants (as well as the remainder of every scrap of their clothing) were tossed up onto the makeshift dock. Erika's skin had gone from deathly white to rosy, making her look a bit more like a human being with a pulse. As soon as the two of them were perfectly bare, she pounced on him, nothing in her way to feeling his full coat of skin against hers. The air was crisp, but she felt the searing heat raging between his thighs.

"Or, rather, Nadir…" she whispered in his ear – as if they weren't alone in a great cavern, " _I_ will have you. Tonight, you're mine."

He could feel just how eager she was, no less than himself. "Then what are you waiting for, beloved?" Nadir whispered into her neck as he gripped her hips, bringing her entrance to the tip of his penis. "Tonight, I am yours."

Truth be told, she had been waiting for his permission. With it, she lowered herself onto him, finally solidifying the union they had wordlessly craved for years. She braced herself against him, reclining both of them onto the cushions as she took more of his length into her. She wasn't afraid. She felt no shame, all she felt was the need to satisfy the two of them.

She caressed his face with the back of hand, looking boldly into his eyes as she began thrusting her hips. She opened her mouth to speak, but a small moan left it first.

"I still…hate you…you know?" She asked with a tease, her dark hair now falling over both of their faces.

Nadir allowed his back to be pressed against the cushions, a low hiss of delight leaving his throat once the grip of her womanhood sank around him. Heavens…it was such an overwhelming, blissful sensation! Their locked gazes let this burning feeling pulse with even more intimacy.

The Persian's rough fingers brushed through her hair "And I…" he moaned faintly, replying in an equally playful tone, "still love you." With those words, he wrapped his arm around Erika's shoulders, pulling her close and kissing her passionately, other hand pressing on her lower back until her thrusts were forcing his entire length into her body.

Erika picked up her pace, clinging to him and panting into his neck. His fingers tugged on her hair, while hers sank into the cushions below him. Small sounds of pleasure fluttered from her throat. Friction began to build so she slowed her pace, wanting to stimulate herself a bit to make their lovemaking more comfortable. She bit down on the nape of Nadir's neck. "Tell me how this feels for you," it wasn't a plea, it was a demand.

Nadir brushed his lips against her hair. With a much louder grunt, he lost control for a moment and threw his hips roughly into one of her thrusts. He groaned in pleasure when she picked up the pace afterwards. Long years had passed since he last knew such maddening bliss. He never had a woman after his wife's death, and now he was with the one he loved like he never loved anyone before.

"You drive me insane!" he moaned. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he swiftly lifted her body and switched their positions. He laid atop her, nibbling her ear playfully before starting to thrust in a slow, torturous manner, stroking her pleasure spot with his hand while he kissed her fiercely.

She was surprised to suddenly find herself pressed against the gondola's soft interior. Erika gave Nadir a mischievous look. He was still so full of surprises. "You bastard," she sighed, rolling her eyes when she realized how teasingly slow he was moving inside her. He shut her complaining up with another long kiss.

She found it getting harder to breathe but wasn't sure why. Alcohol often slowed her brain. That's when she felt an intense shock go up her stomach and she realized Nadir's experienced fingers had slipped between them, finding the folds between her legs and making quick work of them.

"Whatever you're doing," she said, biting her lower lip "…don't stop."

It was a stunning awareness he had. He suddenly found himself having the slightest hint of power over her for the first time since their first encounter. She always led, and he followed. This new…sensation…he beyond enjoyed it. At last, he was able to show just how much he loved and wished to spoil her.

A mischievous smile crept onto his lips, agape from groans and gasps of pleasure. Growing bolder from the approval Erika gave him, the strokes of his fingers went firmer. His thrusting became faster just for a moment. That sudden jolt in speed left her writhing in need under him when he slowed again. Licking his lips, he leaned down to kiss her neck fiercely.

She sank her fingers into the back of his neck with a desperate groan. One hand gripped his shoulder, digging into the soft flesh. She arched her hips into his thrusts, begging him to go deeper where she knew a hidden pleasure point was located.

"You…can do…better," she panted. "I know…you can please a woman." If she was going to submit, then she expected him to outperform her.

Nadir pressed their foreheads together, hissing when her claws dug into his back. Indeed, that was enough teasing and tormenting her. The thrusts remained slow, yet became deep and long, making sure to stab into her deep sweet spot each time. His hands had her shoulders in a vice grip, bracing himself so he could put as much force into each thrust of his hips as possible.

"Oh, _God.._." For a woman of no faith to call upon a deity likely meant she felt equal to one.

Erika was in a state of sublime ecstasy. For once, she wished to be no one else but herself. She wished to be nowhere else except beneath the one man she had ever longed for. His pace was perfect, his touches were perfect, his kisses were perfect, he was just…perfect. Such perfection, and he was making her whole with himself.

Erika ran her fingernails down Nadir's scared biceps and down his back. She wanted to feel him in every crevasse of her body, even under her nails. Her jaw hung open with heavy breaths, each exhale carrying a whimper of overwhelming pleasure. She lolled her head back, shutting her eyes as she felt an orgasm mounting. "I hate…" she gasped, "I hate…that I love you."

Nadir moaned lowly into her neck, the movements of his hips suddenly fast and firm. His length throbbed and swelled, the velvet walls of her womanhood like an addiction he couldn't satisfy. His skin looked golden in the candlelight, glistening from sweat. It was like a dream come true. Overwhelming pleasure rippled through his nerves, boiling his blood beyond the point he could bear. The woman he loved in his arms, writhing and crying from rapture.

"I love… you…" Nadir groaned, clashing his lips on Erika's desperately and pulling her close as he filled her burning core with his seed in another powerful movement.

The hot rush of his climax brought her to the edge of her own. She gripped his hips with her knees and rotated her hips, stimulating herself just a few more times while he was still hard. That was what she needed to at last reach her own orgasm. She broke off the kiss to take a sharp breath of air, her whole body tightening around Nadir's member in an unbearable moment of melting bliss. When her body relaxed again, it felt weak. She hardly felt strong enough to speak.

Nadir collapsed on top of Erika, still inside her, breathing heavily, eyes closed as slowly, the Persian slipped into cloudy bliss of mind and complete limpness of body. He held his friend become lover close, lips pressed to her temple, heart beating against heart.

Erika finally released a breathless laugh, running her finger down the bridge of Nadir's nose. "I'm hoping I won't forget that when I'm sober."


	2. Chapter 2: The Aftermath of Alcohol

**Chapter 2: The Aftermath of Alcohol**

Nadir came around to the smell of candle smoke and the musk of stagnant water. He woke not knowing where he was or how he came to be there. All he knew was that he was not in the bedroom of his flat. Instead, he was laid on tender silk. Even with his eyes still closed, he could feel the material under his bare skin.

Bare skin? Was he…why was he naked? There was warmth pressed against his torso, and Nadir realized he was holding another person in his arms.

Startled, he blinked his eyes open and held back a gasp. He must…he must have been dreaming. The soft silks were cushions on Erika's gondola. He was floating on the lip of dark misty waters. The person in his arms might have been mistaken for a still-warm cadaver by any other man in his position, but Nadir recognized his dear old friend. Erika lay beside him, just as bare as he and peacefully asleep against his chest. The sight didn't last long. Nadir had jolted in shock when he saw her there, and his sudden movement roused Erika from her sleep.

Erika groaned when she woke up. The first thing that filled her senses was a blinding headache. She stretched and felt someone's legs entangling her own. Someone's arms were draped around her shoulders. With a gasp, she opened her eyes and pulled away from the intruding stranger...only to realize with horror that this wasn't a stranger. Nadir was there with her, bewildered and completely undressed…just as she was! Erika grabbed a cushion and covered herself with it, though it didn't help the matter much.

"Nadir!" she cried, her voice echoing over the lake. "What in the hell are you doing?!"

"What in the hell are _we_ doing is a better question, Erika," Nadir mumbled, scratching his head and unsure where to put his gaze. Nothing about her body repulsed him, it was just… _decency_ , for heaven's sake! She sat completely bare beside him while his mind swirled and raced in frantic flashes, unable to recall what led to this uncomfortable situation.

Erika shielded her eyes from him until he turned his back on her. As she felt the cushions around her, wondering where her hairpins were, she spotted a pile of their clothes a few yards away, on the makeshift dock.

Erika turned to Nadir, and that's when she spotted the bright scratch marks all along his shoulders, arms, and back. She traced one with her fingertip, realizing they were slightly raised welts on his toffee colored skin.

"Where…did you get these?"

Nadir rubbed his temples with a sigh, mind twisting and straining to remember what happened. His head throbbed as well. There must have been alcohol. Few times had he been drunk, but each time he drank in excess he felt exactly like this. The Persian's skin felt on fire, and only when Erika pointed out the marks did he glance to his arms and noticed swollen claw marks. Dear Allah…it meant they truly…

"I believe, Erika," his voice was quiet, "according to all the signs…you left them."

Erika's eyes enlarged, and she looked down at her fingernails. Beneath them, she could see compacted traces of skin, grey beneath the whites of her nails. That...that didn't prove anything. None of this proved anything!

"Are…are you implying we…we…?"

Slowly, Nadir nodded. There was no other explanation. The specialized muscles in his lower waist, after years of staying without cause, now felt a little sore. It could mean only one thing: what he had desired for over five years, finally occurred in the spur of alcohol-soaked passion.

"I am, Erika. Only that explanation makes sense," he said.

"I…I…" Erika stuttered. Flashes of dream-like images passed through her mind, phantom sensations of lips on her neck and fingers on….

"Oh God." Erika, still holding the pillow to her chest, stood and climbed onto the dock to retrieve her clothes. Her hips and thighs were sore, which only further cemented the dream in her head as reality. She paused for a moment, her head swimming.

"Do you remember anything?!"

She hoped he didn't. It was humiliating enough to remember it for herself.

Nadir rubbed his temples yet again, groaning. In his mind was a swirl of bony pale, midnight black and candlelight golden, teasing him with mischievous thrills in his veins. Faint memories, as mind could forget but not body. Slowly, the flashes brightened, at times becoming rather clear and very deviously appetizing images.

"Erika," he glanced away, his cheekbones rosy, "I believe I do remember." Catching her dark gaze once again, he sighed and straightened his spine. His voice became firmer, more convinced of his confidence as he said: "And I do not regret it in the slightest."

She held his gaze, just for a moment, before narrowing her eyes into burning slits. Erika wadded up the clothes she knew belonged to him and threw them into the boat – aiming at his face for good measure.

"You will," she hissed as she slipped some articles of clothing back on. "If you so much as _breathe_ a word of this again, you will."

Erika stumbled woozily off the dock, leaving Nadir to himself. God Almighty, she felt so ill. "Get dressed and get the hell away from my home." She glared at him over her shoulder before throwing closed the privacy curtain that surrounded her bed.

Nadir sat alone in the gently rocking boat for a minute more, watching the closed curtains around her bed sway in the underground drafts. A cutting disappointment struck his core, although he knew he had no right to feel such a way. After all, what else could have he expected? Rejoice? Confessions of undying love? The Mirage's heart beating against his bare chest for every night to come?

No. It was a fool's illusion, and he was no fool.

He stepped onto the dock and redressed himself in silence. He paused to glance in her direction once more. Nothing stirred from behind the bed curtains. Nadir pressed a kiss to his fingertips and held his hand out towards her. A parting gesture she would never see.

With that, he exited her lair via the staircase that led to the forgotten hallways above.

Perhaps one day she would accept him and embrace him as her own. Yet a long, long time would have to pass. The Persian had waited for half a decade, and he would gladly wait a thousand more. No matter what distresses he may encounter – what horrors she may put him through as punishment for this encounter – they would not drive him away. If either heaven's gates or hell's jaws awaited, he couldn't care less. If it meant remaining by her side, he couldn't care less.

* * *

Nadir gave Erika her space after that night of living dreams. He made the decision to stay clear of her territory until enough time had passed.

The Opera Populaire breathed relief for two months. Not a shade of the frightful Mirage had been witnessed by the crew. No cruel mischief fell upon the performers. Management received no notes, nor any mysterious complaints of their inadequacy. Their fear, of course, still lingered.

Was it another sinister trick? The silence before a hurricane? Despite their uncertainty, the poor personnel didn't abandon their unspoken hope. Had the infamous specter left them in peace for blissful good? Such hope grew with each passing day of tranquility. Only one heart grew heavy, darkening with concern: the mysterious Persian.

He continued to hang about the opera's halls, waiting for signs that Erika had returned to her antics. No one spoke to him, yet he never expected them too. He was the stranger in their building, as well as the stranger in their country. Fear kept them from coming too close. Nadir had once overheard the young dancers whispering how his 'evil eye' could curse them with misfortune. That seemed to explain why they averted their eyes when they passed by him.

After five years living in this strange nation, Nadir could say he and his Erika had at least one thing in common: they both knew what it was to be an outcast.

The weeks bled into months, and still there was no sign of the entity that haunted the opera house. What had happened? The rationalizations of her absence gnawed away at the Persian's mind day after day. Among them was the frightful thought that she'd been devoting each waking moment to the young tenor.

That worry was nullified as the Daaé boy continued turning up for rehearsals, always accounted for and always taking a cab home at the end of the night. He would keep a watchful eye on the young man in the evenings, and confirmed he was no longer traveling five stories underground to visit his tutor. This relieved the jealousy Nadir couldn't help but harbor for the boy, due to Erika's obsession with him. Yet, it did nothing to relieve his concern.

One day, Nadir could bear it no longer. That terrible feeling of emptiness was too much to bear without answers. Once again, he wandered down through eerie shadows into the Mirage's secret lair. He descended the damp stone staircase to the door of what was once cellar five, now a flooded limestone cavern furnished to resemble a proper home. The rusted iron knob was heavy to turn, but it gave way in the fashion it usually did, with a loud groan of its hinges. What Nadir saw beyond the door left him feeling crushed.

His fears had been warranted. Erika was unwell.

She was sprawled on her lounge, a weak cup of peppermint tea beside her and a sanitation bucket beside that.

"Nadir," she groaned upon seeing him, "leave. I am _anything but_ in the mood for this."

"You should know it's meaningless to try and get rid of me when you are in peril, Erika," Nadir said, happy she was at least well enough to be angry at him.

She glared daggers into him before taking a tiny drink of her tea. Peppermint was the only scent that didn't churn her insides as badly as everything else. It was as if her senses had become heightened and she noticed scents that had never bothered her before: pungent lake water, the dust on her bedsheets, the smell of her own clothes. The home she couldn't leave was an inescapable prison of nauseating scents.

"I'm not in peril," she said, almost tempted to throw the teacup at his head. "I told you to leave, you ignorant fool! You are the last person on the face of this planet I want to see again!"

She sat up a bit too quickly and tasted bile rising in her throat. Erika had to close her eyes to get the storm in her intestines to settle, but it didn't help.

Her rage only made Nadir sigh. Beyond used to these violent outbursts, he had grown a thick skin. He felt neither shocked nor hurt. He only found himself feeling more worried after noticing her twitching with sickness. Something was most definitely not right.

"You're ill. Thus, you _are_ in peril," he stated. "And your insults ceased to affect me long a-."

In the middle of Nadir's sentence, Erika found herself retching up her tea and what little she had eaten into the bucket. Her gaping nasal cavity was another passage for sour acids to escape through. It made her eyes water.

The hangover had returned three weeks after, though Erika had avoided alcohol like the plague since then. For four weeks she found herself lightheaded and nauseous with no end to it in sight. She confined herself to the cellars, mailing Christian a letter that his lessons were cancelled until further notice. She feared she may have contracted a disease when day after day the miserable cloud of sickness didn't clear up. Down there, hidden underground, even the smallest ailment could be fatal without a way to get medicine.

Nadir frowned, wondering what could have caused this illness to the strongest person he had ever known. She had never fallen so frail and nauseous before. Wait...nauseous?

After the moment passed, Erika growled and wiped her mouth with a cloth. "Your being here does nothing except make me worse," she groaned. She ran a weary hand through her hair, arm shaking with weakness. "Leave me be, and if you know what's good for you, you _will not_ come back again." She pinched the place between her eyes. If he left forever, she would be alone in the world. At that moment, she couldn't have cared less about that. All of this was _his_ fault, anyway.

Nadir ignored her callous threats and rebukes. Deep in his gut, he understood. Somehow, he just…sensed. "Erika…" he asked in deathly seriousness, "are you…are you with child?" But what answer did he look for? As if she would ever admit to it, let alone now, with her stomach still slender.

"Always the interrogator," Erika sighed, her face in her hands. Why wouldn't he just let her alone and be done with it all? She sat, silent and still, for a long while.

She had noticed her breasts becoming tender after her illness began. A common sign her monthly flow was due to start, so it wasn't a matter of importance. That is, until her monthly flow didn't come that month. Or the next.

Not met with an answer, Nadir sighed and shook his head. It seemed this one time his intuition had been wrong. Had she anything to hide, Erika would have bristled and hissed like a cornered rat, or so he expected.

Finally, Erika lifted her head with a deep breath of air. Was there any point in dodging the reason behind her anger towards him? Being the detective he was, he had seen through her defensive barrier. He wasn't scared off by her threats – however genuine they were. Nadir was clearly not going to leave her be until she gave him an answer…a truthful answer.

Erika shakily stood to her feet and glared up at Nadir, this time hoping to look more intimidating in a last-stand effort to scare him. She seized his collar with a skeletal hand, pulling him to her level so she could whisper:

"Yes, you _bastard_ , I am."

She punctuated her confession with a vicious slap across her once dear friend's cheek.


	3. Chapter 3: A Deal is Made

**Chapter 3: A Deal is Made**

 _Yes, you bastard, I am._

Her words echoed in Nadir's mind. The slap burned the side of his face, certain to leave bruises. It failed to send him backing away. He neither startled nor gasped, for it brought no surprise. Honestly, in such a situation, he might have expected far worse than a mere strike. Instead, his strong hands gripped her shoulders, holding the Mirage in place as his gaze pierced her eyes. He did not move. He did not speak.

Erika tensed as his hands held her still. What was he going to do? Strike her? Throw her to the ground in a rush of rage? Put his hands around her throat and repay the favor she did for his son?

But he did nothing. Nothing, but stare at her with an unreadable expression.

"Say something," she quietly ordered. "Say something, damn it!"

Nadir swallowed a knot in his throat. "Do you know this for certain?"

For an average woman, it may have been too early to know she was in the family way. However, for someone as deathly thin as Erika was, the slightest change in her body didn't go unnoticed. Beneath her waistline, though hidden under her vest at that moment, was a conspicuous distension in her pelvis. A firm little lump that had been subtly growing with each passing week. That was what had told her – beyond reasonable doubt – that she was carrying Nadir's child within her womb.

Averting her gaze to the wall over his shoulder, Erika muttered; "I'm not naïve, you fool. Yes, I'm certain."

A quivering breath left Nadir and his fingers tightened around her bony shoulders. Indeed, the cause of Erika's mysterious illness was a new life growing inside her. His child rested under her black heart.

It was unwise, but his first impulse was to smile. He had accepted he would never again be a father, but now fate seemed to offer him a second chance. For a passing instant, there was pure joy.

Nadir thought better of it before the expression could form, leaving his brow furrowed and his lips pressed together. This was not a joyful announcement. This was something else entirely. He found himself, for the first time, unable to guess what her actions might be. This Erika, unwilling mother-to-become, this Erika he did not know.

"Have you nothing more to say?" The woman's cool, quiet voice broke his thoughts.

Nadir lessened his grip, but his intense gaze stayed locked on her malformed face. "I must know," he whispered at last, "what will become of the child?"

Becoming woozy, Erika wrenched herself free of his hands. She lay back on the lounge, curled around a pillow. "If I'm fortunate, it will die inside me," she said, avoiding his eyes. "If not, I'll be visiting the apothecary as soon as my health allows."

The Mirage's implied words didn't sink in for a second or two more. When they did, horror joined them to sink its claws into Nadir's heart. She was talking about an abortifacient.

"Erika," the Persian's voice was fainter than a breath, "I _beg_ you, do not."

Erika sat up to finish the tea that had gone cold as her expression.

Nadir continued despite her lack of a response. "I…I shall take it away. I swear. You will never have to lay eyes on it, if you are unwilling to. Just…please." The memory of Reza's smile returned to torment him with its gentle sweetness. His Adam's apple bobbed, and in a broken voice he said: "I cannot... _cannot_ lose another."

"You say that now," Erika said, her voice louder than his, "until your 'precious child' is born without a face. Or born so frail and weak it cannot possibly survive long. And then what?" She looked at him, a silent challenge. "Then you'll leave me with it, and I'll have no choice but to drown it for its own good!"

Nadir clenched his fists until his nails stabbed his palms. "No, I will not leave it. You have my word." He was determined to save his baby's life, even if it meant a vicious fight. "I reared Reza alone. I will do it again for this child. If needed, I will take it from Paris and never return."

Erika got to her feet, taking the teacup into the kitchen. "You would never see me again...over this?" she asked, her voice stale. "You cause my misery, and you would happily abandon me after I've done my duty as a woman?"

She began to fill her cup, but paused. In one quick movement, she hurled the cup at Nadir's head. It missed, shattered, and spilled its hot contents over the wallpaper.

"I never should have trusted you!" Erika shouted. "I never should have allowed you into my home! I never should have been close to you in any way!"

Nadir reached her in two long strides. He seized her wrists as she made to strike him again, pinning her still before she could hurt herself, the baby, or him. "Stop, Erika! Calm yourself and listen to me!" Nadir raised her hands over her head, trying to force her to look into his eyes. "I would _never_ , as long as I am still breathing, cease to be your companion. Yet, should you wish both the child and I away, I would not hesitate. If it meant the life of the child, I would do it."

Erika slammed her fists into his chest, but still he didn't release her. "You've lost a child by my hand before, _what difference would it make_?!"

The Persian took pause. She had spit venom at him many times before, but these poisonous words reached his blood and set it on fire.

"Why do you speak such things?!" he exclaimed. "You showed Reza mercy! You did what I could not and ended his pain. I know there's a side of you that feels some level of compassion. I've seen it! Why now are you unwilling to show your own chid enough compassion to be _born_?"

"Because Reza wasn't my child!" she cried out. "He had no trace of me in him! That was the only reason he looked at me like he would his mother! This child will have half of my blood."

She paused to struggle against his hold, even kicking his shins to no avail. "I'm the Mirage, goddamn it! Maternity is no state for me to be in! It's simply not right! I was never meant to bear anyone's child. A child with my blood is just another blight on the world, no matter where it goes! Nadir, you cannot possibly want that….at least not while sober."

"Yes, Erika, I do! I want this child," Nadir said, struggling to keep her still. "And have you not heard my words? I promise, you will not need to raise it. You'll have no sight of it. I will take it away and rear it in my home, and you may forget it was ever born. Your front as the Mirage will go undisturbed."

It was only when Erika stopped struggling that Nadir released her. She snarled at him briefly before turning her back to the confrontation. Although her organs were twisted, she poured herself a glass of leftover gin. She had started to raise it to her mouth when the drink was snatched away. Oh, of course.

Taking the glass was more an instinctive action than something done out of thought. Nadir was fighting to protect this babe and its mother alike. Erika was neither in a physical nor in a mental state to drink.

Erika watched him pour the drink out onto the stone flooring. "So…will you now be ever present on my shoulder? Making sure I don't do anything to harm this creature?"

"I will, Erika," the Persian replied without hesitation, setting the emptied glass on the counter. "Call it as you wish, but I do not want either of you to get hurt."

Erika took the bottle of gin and – a bit reluctantly – tossed it in the waste bin. It would be going to waste, regardless. She tapped her fingernails on the counter, deep in thought. "No one would ever know it was my child?" she asked, looking at him over her shoulder. "What would you say? That you found a Persian child on the steps of a church?"

"I will say nothing, and they shall not ask," Nadir replied, beyond relieved to see the alcohol thrown away. "They know too little about me. Some even fear me. Yet, if I do hear rumors of it being the child of the Mirage, I shall deny them."

A long, deep breath flowed from Erika's lungs. She leaned against the countertop, her head bowed. "I'll make a deal with you, Nadir, and I want you to listen closely. If I am going to go through _every second_ of agony that awaits me for the sake of giving you progeny, you are going to do _as_ I say, _when_ I say it. Starting right now."

Nadir did not glance down. Did not flinch. Did not seem disappointed or attempted further argument. His goal was obtained in the most bloodless outcome he could have hoped for. Follow Erika's orders in exchange for his...their…child's life? It was the least he could do. Besides, was it not something he felt used to?

"Very well," Nadir said with a nod.

She straightened her spine and faced him with what little composure she had left. "And I issue this dire warning. If you break your part of this agreement," she frowned, "I have every right to break mine."

Nadir clenched his jaw, either in fear or anger – he did not know which. "I understand."

"Wonderful," she sighed. "Now, if you would be so kind as to get me a solvent for my stomach?"

"It would be my pleasure."

Nadir was given permission to access the hidden box of paper notes in Erika's writing desk, taking only as much of the money as he would need for the purchase. He felt her eyes on him as he made his way to the door. He turned and sure enough, she was glaring at him on the lounge from over a pillow held to her chest.

This time, he allowed himself to grin at her – his beloved monster, the future mother of his child. The cause of both his pain and his joy. "Thank you."

Erika pointed a sharp finger towards the door. "Don't thank me, yet."


	4. Chapter 4: Morning Tea

**Chapter 4: Morning Tea**

For another week Erika was bedridden, plagued by nausea and splitting headaches. She lost track of day and night, sleeping more than she had in several years. Without a sunset or sunrise, such a thing was easy to do. The parasite feeding on her blood was draining her body of everything, energy especially.

As per their contract, Nadir was at her beck and call. He arrived every day to perform the role of servant and left for home only when she dismissed him. Erika gave him funds to run errands, at least on the days he caught her in a somewhat good mood. On the many, many times he walked in during the mornings, when the nausea was at its worst, she would require him to drain his own funds on a purchase she needed.

Though, with the morning sickness, a lot of the food he fetched went to waste – including the breakfast Nadir had just tried to surprise her with. All she'd had to do was look at the fruit basket and the retching started. Nadir stood at her bedside, holding her hair as she dry-heaved into the waste bin.

"Please," she said during a respite, "get that basket out of my sight."

"I would feel more at ease if you ate something." Nadir could tell her stomach had been empty all night. Not a drop of acid left her lips. Still, he held her hair as a courtesy.

She heaved up nothing one last time and tried shoving him away one-handed. "Go to Hell."

It wasn't Hell, but the kitchen was far enough away. From there, Nadir put a kettle on to boil (as he knew she would be asking for tea by noon) and called to her: "Are you faring better since I saw you last?"

Hanging over the side of the mattress, hair knotted and unwashed, Erika groaned: "I hope for your sake that's a rhetorical question."

She regretted making the deal. She _highly_ regretted making the deal. It had caused her nothing but prolonged misery, and the worst was yet to come. She never said a word to Nadir, but frequently she considered sneaking off to the apothecary and doing away with the pregnancy.

Only one thing kept her from doing so: he would never forgive her.

He wouldn't believe the claim of a natural miscarriage. Even if he did, he would always have his doubts. The trust she'd earned from him would be broken. What would stop him then from turning on her? What would make him think twice about reporting her as a fugitive?

Erika rose from the bed, fingers pressed into her throbbing temples. She was becoming more resigned to her condition each morning, and for good reason.

"I should begin penning my last will and testament," she stated.

Nadir's head swiveled 'round to face her, too taken aback to say anything at first. How was one meant to react to such a declaration? "Don't start speaking like that."

Erika splashed her face and neck with cold water from the wash basin. The shock on her skin sucked blood away from the pain in her skull. "It would be the wise thing to do."

"Your condition is not going to cause you any harm." Nadir paused, suddenly attacked by memories that were much, much too painful to bear. He shook his head, clearing them away before they could overwhelm him. "I'll make sure of it. You have no need of a will."

Erika likely would have seen the light in his eyes change had she not had her face in a towel. All the same, she heard the subtle shift in his tone. She had never been explicitly told how Nadir's wife passed...but it was clearly related to childbirth. Reza hadn't remembered his mother in the slightest.

Their gaze met briefly as she patted her collarbone dry. She was the one to look away.

"Nadir," Erika said, her voice grave, "you know precisely why I do."

The Persian couldn't fend off the memories this time. Erika's words opened the floodgate, and it all came rushing over him.

* * *

 _Rookheya conceived after a struggle with infertility. Their prayers for a child went unanswered for six years. Then, at the age of twenty-five, she blessed him with Reza. Nadir's mother-in-law and the other women of the family assured him that both mother and child were healthy. And they had been right. The following three days spent with his first love and their long-awaited child...were the happiest Nadir had lived._

 _The delivery had gone well. Rookheya had been perfectly fine for three days, albeit tired. Reza's fourth sunrise brought the biggest trauma of Nadir's life._

 _He awoke to find his wife's cooling body beside him, pallid and already stiffening._

 _An unnoticed injury, her sisters said. The bleeding had been slow, but unstoppable. Mistaken for common bleeding after a birth._

* * *

Nadir said nothing.

"I do suppose there aren't many I could leave my possessions to," Erika continued, choosing to ignore her companion's stunned silence. "Monsieur Giry would want the clothes he's given me through the years. Although, he's managed as Box Keeper without his old suits. I'll be keeping one to be buried in, regardless of –"

"Stop speaking that way, I beg of you!"

Erika slipped a bath robe over her shoulders. "And how would you have me speak?"

"Of anything other than death."

The shriek of the kettle startled them. Erika entered the open kitchen while Nadir prepared a weak tea.

"Fine, I won't make up a will." She put a hand up to shield her eyes from the fruit basket. "If I pass, do whatever the devil you will with my estate."

"As you wish, Erika. As you wish."

Erika waited for a further response, but the argument was over.

At her writing desk, she resumed work from the night before – calculating figures on stolen office ledgers. Someone upstairs had overvalued the records and Erika took it upon herself to correct them. Several weeks of being secluded in her home had her concerned about what she'd missed. The new season was about to open, and it was high time the Mirage returned to her managerial duties. She intended to return above when she was feeling more herself. Her pregnancy hadn't progressed far enough to hinder her agility, and that needed to be taken advantage of.

Nadir's heavy footfalls approached her from the side, and she saw a flicker of white steam in the corner of her vision.

In his hands he carried a teacup and saucer. He'd decided to offer her a drink before she started getting moody. Of course, he spied on the papers from over her shoulder. He needed to be vigilant of her now more than ever before.

"You would not rest, would you?" Nadir sighed. He knew his Erika too well and knew what she had in mind. She would work through sickness and hellfire if she had her schemes in mind.

Without a word, Erika held out her upturned palm, waiting. Nadir placed the porcelain saucer on her worktable, prompting her to take the teacup. With payment in-hand, Erika acknowledged his presence.

"My cast, my show, my business," Erika said. She tested the drink with her lip before taking a drink. Citrus and something floral, unfamiliar. "What is this?"

"Myrtle," Nadir said. "My wife, she would drink nothing else while expecting Reza. I suppose it might settle your stomach more than peppermint."

She ignored him, her eyes focused on the calculations as she sipped her tea.

It was clear she didn't wish to engage, but he remained looking over her shoulder. He noticed the drafts of letters apologizing for her absence and claiming she would be present at final rehearsals to give her approval. His intuition was correct. She had every intention of scaling the rafters in her condition, risking both her health and the health of the babe. The Persian forced grim thoughts away. At least, no one had more skill in such ventures than Erika. Yet, could he say nothing?

"You know you shouldn't gamble with heights, Erika," he muttered, as if there was anything he could do to stop her.

"I can handle myself," Erika responded, not looking up from her work. "If anything were to happen, Nadir, I would tell you. Anything that could potentially be a risk, you would know. A fall, an illness, etcetera. This arrangement is a business deal. I'm carrying your property in exchange for your services. Therefore, it's my duty to tell you when that property could be damaged."

How could words describe the emotion her statement inflicted? A ghostly blade had pierced between his ribs, straight through pulsing muscle. Yes, he was aware Erika disowned this baby; yet calling it – an innocent living being – someone's property? That was wrong, just…wrong. As the former police chief of Mazandaran, Nadir had witnessed slavery countless times. With his own babe spoken of as a purchase, it sent a prickle up his back.

"I appreciate your honesty," he said. "However, this child is not my property. It is my child. A child is no one's property."

Erika gave an absent nod. "I suppose you are correct, at least in this matter of affairs."

It was hard, at times, not to think of the human body as a commodity to be bargained for. She'd seen far too many examples of it, starting with her own mother selling her to a carnival for wine. Then she had seen the horrors of human trafficking and exploitation – had been a part of it herself.

She thoughtfully rested her hand over her lower abdomen. She estimated herself to be at three months gestation, and the growth was undeniably visible on her skeletal framework. That was why she had avoided bathing for a few days, to avoid looking at herself as much as possible. The changes in her body frightened her. However, she refused to give Nadir the satisfaction of seeing her afraid.

Even if this child frightened her, even if she wasn't keeping it, she realized she was using the same terminology her Masters had used to describe it. "Property" was what they would have called the child had she conceived it in captivity.

"This child isn't being born into slavery," she murmured, almost reminding herself of that fact. Perhaps, when she was much younger, she had expected this day to come while behind the bars of a cage.

Erika turned to Nadir and, after a bit of hesitation, touched his arm. "Forgive me, my friend, I meant no offense." She realized she had – essentially – likened him to a slave owner, and she would never do so again.

Nadir drummed his fingers into the back of her chair. Her words certainly hurt him, offended even, for a father's temper flared to hear his child insulted. But did he not understand? Did he not know her and her mindset? Hearing the apology made the Persian forgive immediately. Perhaps his old heart had grown too soft, perhaps it was out of love, but for all her deceptions he felt the apology was genuine.

"You are forgiven," he said, rubbing his forehead. "However, I beg you, never speak that way again about our –" Nadir corrected himself swiftly, "—about the child."

Did it slither past his jade eyes unseen, how she covered her swollen stomach at the mention of the babe inside her? No, it did not. And as foolish as it may be, it sparked fragile hope in Nadir's heart.

Erika was silent for a long, long while with her hand against Nadir's arm. What did he want from her? To love the child? Certainly not. She couldn't love it any more than she could love herself. Aside from her art, everything that came from her existence was negative, impure or a farce. This child was no different. It would be just another blight on humanity, as she was. But, if Nadir wanted it, she would gladly give it to him.

But…

"Nadir," she finally spoke after a while, surprised he hadn't left her to her own devices by then, "will our relationship change any, once your child comes?"

Nadir stood quiet as well, deciding the silence was hers to break. She needed to think, she needed time. He would remain patient with her, no matter what. And through it, he would hope beyond hope. Hope beyond hope that she would develop a kinder view of their little one to come.

Torn out of his thoughts by her voice, the Persian found Erika's gaze. For some reason, he felt…relieved. He had concerns that Erika would want nothing to do with him once the babe was his to raise. Either to avoid him or the child, it was plausible she would shun him from her life. But her question suggested that would not be the case. His old friend still wanted him close.

Nadir shook his head, the corners of his brown-pink lips curled up. "No, Erika. I have already told you, I will not abandon you. Come what may, you will never be rid of me. Not in this life, nor the next."

Erika bit her inner cheek to try and hide a grin, but it showed anyway. She took a large drink of the myrtle tea. It was truly working wonders, but she would say nothing about it. Until she asked for another cup, of course.

"Oh, you could live without me," she grinned.

"No, I could not."

Erika raised an eyebrow. Nadir's tone had become so grave it was jarring. "I beg your pardon?"

Nadir's face was smiling, but his eyes betrayed his sincerity. "I need you. I will always need you. And you, my dear old friend, know the reason why."

Erika felt her breath become hot. For a moment, she was back in that drunken memory that felt like a dream. Her body was warm, her heart was pounding, and a ghostly voice was whispering in her ear: " _I love you."_ And perhaps it was her imagination, but she could almost hear her own voice returning the sentiment.

Sometimes…she found herself wanting to have that dream again.

Erika cleared her throat, hoping her expression hadn't given her innermost thoughts away. She shifted uneasy in her seat before throwing herself back into her work.

"I know," she said, glancing at Nadir from the corner of her vision. "I know, Nadir."


	5. Chapter 5: Thinking of the Future

**Chapter 5: Thinking of the Future**

With October came the coldest autumn Nadir had experienced. Five years in Europe, and he still was unaccustomed to the changing of the seasons. But this was beyond his preference to heat, even the Parisians noticed the cold.

The remains of the opera's lowest cellar often become cold at night from outside drafts carried over the lake. The weather was turning frigid as summer slept, and now Nadir required an overcoat even for a brief visit. The home's man-made walls glittered with frost every morning; especially the walls built into the surrounding limestone. It dampened the ornate paper lining the rooms and set Erika _ablaze_ every time. This would lead to an hour of Erika lamenting the weather, while Nadir was made to dry the wallpaper before it stained.

Being down in that damp icebox made his joints ache. He could see how living in that house affected her, and it worried him. When she mentioned the cold keeping her from sleeping, he provided more blankets from his flat. When she shivered, he added firewood to the stove. When ice appeared on the edge of the lake, that's when he decided to act.

By his estimation the child was due in February, during the worst of winter. If this autumn was any signal, it was a brutal season coming. Nadir implored Erika to leave the opera to itself until the child arrived.

A cat pulled by its tail would've had a calmer reaction.

Nadir compromised with a luncheon. At his flat, where at least for an afternoon the stubborn mule would be someplace warm.

"Are you still not speaking to me?" Nadir asked as they rode in the cab.

Erika sat with her elbow against the door, her chin in her hand, and her eyes fixed outside the window. Nadir's large overcoat hung off her frame and one of the spare blankets draped across her lap. A scarf hid her face in lieu of the porcelain mask. She'd left it behind for the day, comfortable without it in Nadir's presence. She hadn't spoken to him since their earlier argument, and she didn't acknowledge him now.

Nadir's lips pressed together in a line. He turned his own attention to the world gliding past.

The first dusting of snow had come surprisingly – worryingly – early. Even late in the morning, white specks lingered between the cobbles in the road. A few straggling flakes whipped by the glass.

"I refuse to enjoy myself on this excursion," Erika finally spoke.

"I've not forced you into doing anything, my friend." Nadir held the pile of folded blankets at his side when the cab stopped to allow pedestrians to cross the street. "You came of your own choice."

"After you prodded me into coming." Erika cast him a hateful glare before returning her eyes to the window.

"Erika, let's not do this again. I don't have the energy."

"Oh, yes, _you_ don't have the energy," Erika sneered. "You bear such a heavy cross! No employment, no dependents, no ailing body. You martyr, you!"

"Enough!" Nadir bit back. "What has you in such a sour mood?"

"Everything, Nadir!" Erika snapped, finally turning to face him. "Everything!"

The letters to management were never sent. They were sitting at that very moment in Erika's stationary, untouched. Ink trapped under her fingernails instead came from letters penned to Monsieur Daaé. They'd been corresponding for the past month, with his letters arriving at the post office for Erika to retrieve. In them, her pupil expressed his concern for the lack of contact with his tutor – which she explained away as a prolonged illness. It wasn't entirely untrue, after all.

It was friendly conversation for a while. She expressed her desire to see him perform that season, but he announced he'd decided to retire from the winter season. He explained he had chosen not to perform in the upcoming show, although he'd been offered a high-profile role.

Christian went on to tell his teacher that he was leaving for his homeland until summer. In fact, he had trusted her enough to admit the reason: he was eloping with the daughter of one of the theater's patrons. That letter now lay in shredded pieces at the bottom of a wastebasket.

Fifteen minutes seated in tense silence, and the cab rattled to a stop. The street corner was busy that time of day, and Erika made sure her scarf was in place. Nadir stepped off first, his arms full of blankets, and offered his hand to Erika as she stepped down. She ignored it, gripping the edge of the cab door until she was firmly on the sidewalk.

* * *

Erika limped into Nadir's parlor and dropped herself in the nearest armchair to catch her breath. The walk had been less than a block, but uphill. She removed the scarf that had become too suffocating. Shortness of breath was a punishment for anything strenuous, further convincing Erika her strength was being drained each passing week. Worst of all, her boots were pinching tight – making foot travel a sore ordeal.

Nadir latched the door and dumped the armful of his blankets on the loveseat. "What would you like me to prepare?"

"You choose, I'm willing to eat anything." Erika had to set her boots on the coffee table to loosen their straps. Bending over herself was on the verge of impossible. "Where is your washroom?"

"Through the salon, down the hall and around the corner."

The flat was more fetching than Erika imagined, though the posh district it was in should have told her that much. Wood paneling traced the lips of walls and leaped over doorframes as she passed them in the hallway. The air she lived in was the scent of wet, dissolving stone and candle smoke. Here, it was cedar and bay leaves. The man had done well for himself since Mazandaran, and he'd clearly refused to lower his standards of living.

Just before the turn in the hallway, there was a door left ajar. Stopping to nudge the door open a few inches more, Erika saw a bedpost and realized her mistake. Before she turned away, however, she spotted something below the curtain-drawn window. Sitting no more than an inch off the ground was a worn-out rocking cradle. Two cracked supports pitched the wooden box at a skewed angle, and there was no mattress to be seen on the inside.

Returning a few minutes later from the washroom, Erika stole another look at the little object in the bedroom. There it was: the first tangible proof outside herself that she was carrying a baby. It made her shudder. Not only because it was an infant's item, but because of the sorry state it was in.

"I thought you were excited about this child's arrival," she said, pulling shut the collar of the overcoat.

"What makes you question that fact?" Nadir called from the open kitchen door.

Erika kneeled to arrange firewood in the hearth. "That pitiful excuse of a cradle. With all you're doing to ensure this creature's safety, I expected a bit more effort from you in providing for its needs." She grabbed a tinder box and set fire to the kindling. The kitchen was quiet. "Nadir?"

The Persian entered the salon carrying a platter of finger sandwiches, his expression smooth as ever. "Erika, let me tend the fire. Please, help yourself."

She placed herself in the loveseat and tasted one of the sandwiches. Cucumber. She had to smile – he must have exhausted _all_ his resources for this luncheon, the luncheon she simply _had_ to attend. The first was finished quickly and Erika found herself reaching for a second.

"So," she said, "you're not going to explain yourself? Can't spare a few extra francs to give your babe a comfortable bed?"

Nadir stood from prodding the fire, cracking his spine as he straightened. He massaged the nape of his neck, looking to the ceiling. "I cannot."

"What do you mean 'you cannot'?"

"I cannot, Erika. My savings are bleeding out, and you know work has been dreadful for me to find in this country."

Even after five years in France, he was still living off his savings from Mazandaran. It wasn't for lack of trying he couldn't find employment. He had been looking since he arrived, but...no one seemed willing to trust him with even the most menial of tasks.

Nadir continued: "There is a year's worth of rent left. I didn't wish to burden you with this, not now of all times."

"Didn't wish to burden me?" Erika questioned, adding another sandwich to her napkin. "Nadir, how long have you known?"

"It wasn't such a strain until...well..." he motioned towards her.

Erika ate half of a sandwich in one bite. Her morning sickness had given way to ravenous hunger in the last month. So, even a meal as scarce as this was devoured with gusto.

"You've...astounded me with your stupidity," she said. "I should be angry with you, but I've exhausted that energy elsewhere. What man willingly brings an infant into his home when he knows he cannot care for it?"

"I can find work if I keep searching," Nadir insisted. He seated himself next to her on the loveseat, but she leaned away from him. "You could pen a letter of recommendation, forge a signature, or..." He trailed away from that thought, overcome by another. "Why do you care?"

Erika shrugged, wiping her hands clean. "Because it's rather pitiful you could care for Reza, but not for this child."

"Don't hide behind insults," Nadir said. "Tell me why you're concerned with this."

"Because I had more faith in you than this," Erika said, flourishing an arm. "You had me fooled that you were capable, that this child wouldn't be better off dead. I'm starting to reconsider."

A stormy wind rattled the windows. Nadir rested his arms over his knees, then upturned his palms – as if doing so would beckon the words forth. "You say that as though you haven't reconsidered before."

Before speaking, Nadir had no proof in the slightest that his statement was true. But after, when Erika turned to him with such a startled look in her eye, he knew it was. "I have to thank you," he offered her a sad smile. "Thank you for keeping your word."

Shaken, Erika gave a stiff nod. "You knew."

"You can be predictable as the time," Nadir chuckled. "I can hope, but you're the Angel of Death through and through."

* * *

After that exchange, the two kept to themselves for the next hour. An autumn gale whipped the outside walls, warning that a cold front was on its way. Erika's options were to prolong her awkward visit in the flat or go back to a freezing cellar. Every throw pillow in the salon ended up in a nest on the loveseat to give Erika a cozy place to settle with a book. She wasn't paying too much attention to the words on the pages, it was only to disguise her shame from the other person in the room.

Nadir periodically disappeared to other parts of the home, going about his business. When he settled into an armchair with his own book to occupy his time, the fireplace had warmed the apartment considerable. Yet, he noticed Erika hadn't removed the overcoat he'd lent her.

"Aren't you warm?"

"I am," she said, keeping her face in the pages, "but I'd rather not have you gawk at me."

"Oh, you know I would do no such thing. I saw you this morning and thought nothing of it."

"I still prefer not to look at myself."

Pregnancy, a cruel mistress, didn't wait too long to unveil her more cruel face. Erika's wardrobe was rapidly becoming useless. The dress shirts and trousers, tailored for men by nature, did little to accommodate her swelling body. The one she wore now was as loose as it could be, and still it was obscenely tight on her. Hiding everything under a coat was easier.

It was early evening, but the clouds hid the sunset. The windows rattled again. Wind whistled through the drafts. Erika gasped in a breath, but not from the kiss of the cold.

Nadir heard and looked up from his book. "Are you alright?"

"It's nothing." Erika wet her finger and turned a page, but her uneasy shift in position told that something was off.

Nadir did not even realize his back grew stiff. He sat up, keeping his book open on his lap. "Erika, if you're in pain you need to tell me right now. Remember our contract, you promised to tell me if anything could be wrong."

"Calm yourself, nothing is wrong." She pressed a hand into her swollen stomach. It felt like feathers were brushing the inside of her abdomen. It was like nothing she'd felt before, and it was disgusting. It was easy to imagine a worm slithering through her intestines with how foreign and... _alive_...the movement was. "I think it was the child."

"Moving?" Nadir asked quietly, hesitantly creeping closer. The babe had never kicked before, at least not around him, or that he knew. Perhaps Erika simply did not tell him.

"Yes, but it's faint," Erika said, pausing a moment to try and feel the soft flutter through the coat. "Odd, I thought un-borns slept in the womb."

Nadir grinned, standing beside her. "Oh, no, this is a good sign. This means they're growing stronger. Expect much more of this to come," he said. "Is this the first time?" Erika nodded.

He was suddenly so compelled to be near her. By chance, their baby decided to make itself known for the first time, and he was there to witness it. In spite of the mental burden and the arguments, Nadir was reminded of what he had to look forward to. He was an expectant father again, and this remarkable woman was the mother of his child. Regardless if she wanted to admit that or not.

Erika craned her neck to look at the pages Nadir was reading. Inked there were small diagrams on how to properly swaddle an infant. Tossing her entertainment aside, she took the book from Nadir and began leafing through it. There were passages and descriptive diagrams on how to bathe and change an infant, among other basic childcare subjects. She found it odd. Didn't Nadir already know such things? He had raised Reza entirely on his own, surely he didn't need to be re-taught?

"Why read this?" she asked.

The Persian sighed. "A courtesy to my unborn child, as well as a necessity."

Long years had passed since he was robbed of fatherhood – his beautiful Reza, the light of his eyes, the joy of his heart. Unwillingly his soul was stirred with fear, and he wished to be armed against any devils that may rear up. Perhaps then, he would make no mistakes. Perhaps then, he would get to see his babe grow.

He hadn't been so uneasy during Rookheya's time, although it was his first experience with anything of the nature. But his wife had been in good health, with enough meat on her bones to remain strong despite the physical strain. Erika was the complete opposite. In that volume alone, he'd learned of so many hazards only related to her body type. It...it wasn't just the child he was fearful for. It wasn't just the child's health he was wanting to be prepared for.

Nadir fiddled with the wedding ring still adorning his finger. He watched Erika shut the book and set it aside as well. "It's late," he said. "Would you like an escort home?"

"In the morning," Erika said. She stretched as much as she could. "I think I can leave things to themselves for one night. You were right, a warm place to sleep will do me well."

Nadir couldn't believe is ears. "The Mirage admits I'm right," he chuckled and handed her the spare blankets. "I can now die a fulfilled man."

Erika smiled back at him as she clumsily rolled onto her side. She rearranged the pillows to better support her heavying frame. "If your child keeps me awake at all, that can be arranged."

"That's why tonight, I sleep with the door locked."


	6. Chapter 6: A Blossoming Bud

**Chapter 6: A Blossoming Bud**

Nadir was awoken late that morning by the sound of his front door. Confused, he rolled over and looked to his bedside alarm clock. The hands were unmoving. Nadir ran a hand over his beard. Light was in the curtains – half the morning wasted. Dressed in only a nightshirt, he lumbered out of bed in search of his overnight guest. The moment he entered the hallway, an envelope was thrust in his face.

"Take it," Erika said.

More than a little irritated, Nadir snatched the envelope. It was still cold from the outside. "Why did you tamper with my alarm?"

Erika unwrapped the scarf from her neck. "I didn't want you to talk me out of this."

"Out of what?"

"Open the envelope."

Nadir nudged past her and made his way to the kitchen drawers. Cutting the seal with a knife, he removed the single slip of paper contained within. The knife fell to the counter with a clang.

Erika stepped into the kitchen behind him, removing the large overcoat to reveal she hadn't bothered changing out of the nightshirt she'd been lent. A smirk played on her crooked lips. "You'll be needing it more than I."

In Nadir's hands was a signed banknote. He knew Erika was involved in some underhanded practices to get by but...the amount listed on that paper was beyond his expectations. "Erika..." he found his tongue, "I cannot accept this. This is stolen money."

"It is no such thing!" Erika said, aghast. "I've earned my wealth through honest means." She hung up the coat and wrapped herself in a quilt. "As honestly as possible, at least. Regardless, it's money I was due for my role in organizing each production. That note entitles you to half of my savings."

"Your name isn't on this."

"I wasn't going to put a woman's name on the account." Erika leaned against the pantry door, trying to take weight off her feet. "Take it. It's yours."

Nadir stared at the slip in his hands, reeling. "I...I don't...don't know how to thank you."

"Don't," Erika sighed, closing the quilt around her neck to hide her chest under the sheer fabric of the nightwear. "I do this for selfish reasons. I want to be certain you can take the child off my hands. And the first thing I recommend you use this for is buying a proper cradle."

Nadir carefully returned the note to the envelope, too stunned to speak. Then, without warning, he had his arms around Erika's shoulders, holding her as tightly as he dared.

Erika went rigid. "What are you doing?!"

"Giving thanks in a way you can't negate." He rested his forehead against her temple, catching the foggy scent of her hair.

Erika's hand twitched, reflex ready to shove him away; but after a few seconds wrapped in his embrace, her shoulders lowered and her body relaxed against the pantry. She said nothing.

Nadir released and gave her space. Remembering he was only in his nightwear, he walked to the parlor to throw a blanket over his shoulders as well. Erika followed, and heartily laughed when she saw the state they were in. Both dressed in nothing but nightshirts and wearing quilts as oversized capes like a pair of foolish children.

"Look at us," she chortled, "quite the pair of responsible adults."

Nadir dropped onto the loveseat with joints stiff from sleep. He made a frame with his hands and held it up to see Erika through. "If only the Shah could see his fearsome assassin now, eh?"

Erika laughed again at the thought and sat at the opposite end of the loveseat.. "Oh, I'm certain he'd be furious at the both of us." She clapped her hands together, a short wheeze of a cackle leaving her mouth. "By God, can you imagine his reaction if he knew his Angel of Death was with child? The child of a defector, for that matter!"

Their shared laughter filled the apartment. His, rich and booming. Hers, rolling and potent.

Nadir coughed away his laugh. "But, truly, Erika," he said, and cleared his throat of phlegm, "I cannot thank you enough. I've felt like a failure of a man, unable to provide for a life that I'm responsible for creating."

"I'm equally responsible, Nadir. Don't be so vain." Erika playfully prodded his shoulder. "We're both imbeciles, and we both made a very drunken mistake."

"I don't find any part of this a 'mistake'," Nadir said. "Call it a 'pleasant accident', because I know you won't call it a 'blessing'."

"You're right, I won't," Erika said, rolling her eyes. She picked up the book on childcare left on the coffee table, flipping through it once again to view the illustrations of little ones being tended to. The drawings of cherub-like children led her to wonder: what was it like to expect a healthy baby? Was it the cause of maternal love?

It must be. Her mother _had_ loved her at one time. Erika knew that. She had been told so many times.

* * *

" _I was the perfect mother," Charlotte sobbed. She sat in a heavy lump on the kitchen floor, a mostly finished bottle of wine in her hand. Erika could remember the messy updo of her mother's hair, half fallen and dangling in tangles of black over a cherry-red face. "I swear I was the most perfect goddamn mother! I did everything right, and you still came out wrong!"_

 _Erika was huddled in the corner, just behind the woodburning stove. She was young – she couldn't remember what age – and that stove seemed like a barrier between her and her mother's drunken fury. She said nothing, just tried to press herself further against the wall. The burlap mask she was made to wear lay in a soggy mess of fibers beside the sink. Erika had accidentally destroyed it, trying to wash away a food stain, and Charlotte had caught her in the act._

 _Erika could remember the blood trickling from her hairline, where her head had been slammed against the side of the sink. If she felt for it now, she could feel the indented scar on the side of her head._

 _The glass bottle clinked against the floor as Charlotte swayed. She focused her bloodshot, tearful eyes on Erika in a hate-filled glare._

" _I'm sorry, Maman," Erika peeped._

 _Charlotte spat at her. "If you're so sorry, then die already. Spare me. But, oh no! You continue to torment me. Fucking little devil!"_

 _That was when Erika started sobbing, a little broken ball in the corner. The wine sloshed in the bottle as Charlotte took another long drink._

" _I was the perfect mother," she murmured, almost incoherent. "I loved you so much for nine months...and then I had to see you."_

* * *

"You were a good father, Nadir," Erika said. Her forefinger traced the sketched cheek of a swaddled infant on the page. "I've never met anyone so tender towards a child as you."

Nadir peered over her arm to see the pages. "All the tenderness in the world isn't enough, though. I gave everything and...and..."

Erika saw his hands start to tremble. Something in her chest fell to the soles of her feet.

Nadir's throat became pinched. "If I was a good father, why is Reza gone, Erika?" His voice rose barely above a whisper. "Why is he gone?"

Erika closed the book in her lap. She rested a hand over Nadir's anxious fingers. "Nature runs its course," she told him. "Reza's sickness was no more your fault than mine. You had enough of a heart to hire a merciful end to his pain, Nadir. That's how I know your second child will be in good hands. You won't let it suffer anything nature brings. Not even me."

Nadir was giving what she couldn't possibly give this babe: a parent who loved it – regardless of health or appearance. It wasn't even born yet, and Nadir was already going to lengths to ensure the babe's health and safety. That was a human decency Erika had never been afforded, and one she didn't know how to give. Slowly she began to tear up, these thoughts affecting her much more than they usually did.

"I can't be a mother. But, Nadir…because of you…this child won't be abandoned. It will be loved, very much so." Her eyes spilled over, and she quickly wiped her face with a corner of the quilt. "Damn it."

Nadir had only seen Erika weep once, and it was while she held his son's lifeless body in her arms. Then, he had pretended not to see. Her condition was known to cause fragile emotions; but it was such an unexpected sight, he wasn't sure how to react.

Timidly, his hand rose up and brushed the lingering tears away. He delighted in her touch. Days would pass between those brief, sweet moments when her cold balsa skin joined his warm mahogany.

Erika shuddered but didn't pull away as Nadir wiped away her tears with his thumb. His large hand cupped the cheek that practically wasn't there, and she felt the heat of his ring against the sensitive skin there. She looked in his eyes for a second, then kept her gaze downward.

"You have my word. The child's life will be nothing like you've known," Nadir said. He tilted her chin so she could better look him in the face. "It will be filled with love, and joy, and warmth. And, Erika, that is because we _both_ could provide it."

Erika jerked back, wide-eyed. "N-no. No, I'm afraid that's impossible, my friend." Yes, she was undoubtedly having a child with him…but Erika knew motherhood did not await her.

She continued: "There is no possible way maternal love resides within me. Not...not when I've never known an example. And I know, I just _know_ hatred will fill the place of love as soon as I see what curse I've bestowed upon the babe."

"Erika..."

"If this babe knew me, it would only know hatred." She gently cupped his cheek as well. "I can't allow that, Nadir. Please, think of me as your surrogate, not as the mother of your child. Because...that's what I can never be. You are capable and willing to love a child of mine, and that alone is a miracle."

Nadir took the hand that was touching his face, put it to his lips, and softly kissed it. "How can you say that? There is no one alive I would rather have a child with. At least now, my Erika, you understand it's another life under her heart, not some bargain."

Erika barely nodded. "...I do. However, our contract stands until the end. That is what we agreed upon."

Nadir offered a weary grin, cupping her hand in both of his. "Indeed. Is there anything your servant can do for you?"

"Yes," Erika's cheekbones had gradually turned rosy. "I want you to kiss me."

The Persian man beside her sat in stunned silence. "What?"

Erika ran her hand through her hair, pulling black strands loose – which she then tangled around her fingers. "There's no denying what we did. Yes, we were drunk, but…alcohol is a truth serum, is it not? Lowering inhibition, making it easier to pursue what one desires most. Nadir, I remember what you told me. Do you remember what I told you?"

 _I hate…I hate...that I love you._

Words echoed faintly in his mind, like the rustle of dying wind among withered leaves. Yet, deep in his heart, they pulsed so, so alive. Surreal, but alive; and he knew they were true, even if they were never spoken by her lips again.

Nadir held his large hands over her smaller one a bit tighter. "Yes, Erika. I remember."

"I want you to say it. Tell me again, while I'm sober and perfectly aware that it's true." Erika moved closer, but kept her gaze anywhere but on his face. "Don't tell me that I 'already know'. Obviously, I know. You've never been able to hide your secrets from me."

She ran a hand down her swollen midsection, the increasingly familiar flutters inside catching her attention. The most important thing in Nadir's world was growing and moving inside her, and she knew it. It would change everything, put up a barrier that would bar her dearest – and only – companion from her. His time, and his heart, would belong to this child.

"Please, just say it to me."

Out of all the words that could have been spoken, this…this…this was certainly not what the Persian had expected. Ah, Erika. His Erika. She truly never ceased to surprise.

Had a seer predicted this very moment in their crystal ball, Nadir would have laughed a cold, bitter laughter of disbelief and called them insane. Yet here she was before him, asking him to repeat what he admitted that one tender night.

Before Nadir's sharp instincts could react, skeletal arms wrapped around his body. Erika buried her face in his shoulder and without a second thought, he held the Mirage close to his firmly beating heart.

"I love you. I love you, Erika. With every tug of pulse in my soul, I love you."

Erika tightened her grip on him, her horrible excuse of a face pressed into his shoulder. At first, the only sounds she could utter were small, mewling whimpers that she hadn't made since she was a child. The frightened child, the Faceless Girl of the sideshows. The Angel of Death in Persia. The Angel of Music, the Mirage. The mercy killer of his first child, and now the carrier of his second. In that moment, all were meaningless. With him, she was Erika. Just Erika.

"I love you, too," she whispered, hoping he would hear her. "And I will. Until the day I die."

Nadir felt her tears soak through his nightshirt. He pulled the quilts from over her shoulders, wanting to be as close to her body as possible. He stroked her hair and kissed her temple over and over, all the while fighting not to join her in overwhelmed tears.

"Let's not cry, my sweet," he crooned in her ear. "This is a happy moment, is it not?"

Erika pulled her legs up, laying half-cradled in the crook of his arm. Her face was now wet with tears, and she didn't bother to dry them. "It should be."

"Why did you choose this moment, of all times?"

"Because I won't have you to myself forever," she said. "When your child is born, it's best I stay away." She blinked away fresh tears, realizing just what might have been if this horrible accident never occurred. "I want to pretend that we have a future, just for today. Please? Can we just pretend?"

Nadir's heart clenched, but as always, he smiled through it. "Do you still want me to kiss you?"

She nodded, managing to curl the intact corner of her lips up.

"Then I gladly will."

He reclined them back on the loveseat, his lips pressing over hers, until they lay side-by-side in each other's arms. Touch had a memory, it seemed, as every dream-like sensation from their drunken encounter returned in bright, sober detail. Erika brushed her hair aside, inviting him to trail his kisses to her collarbone. The thin cotton of their nightclothes left little to the imagination, which only encouraged them to kiss each piece of exposed flesh.

Erika's body was full of extra blood. She felt every touch in titillating detail. His wet lips teased her skin as if he knew how tender she had become. Well, perhaps he did. She giggled as his beard tickled her neck.

Nadir pulled away, leaning on his elbow beside her, admiring a task well done. Erika reached around his waist, caressing his back before slightly hiking his nightshirt up.

"Take me to the bedroom," she pleaded. "I want you."

"It's noon."

Erika huffed in frustration, adjusting her hips. "Remember our contract. _As_ I say, _when_ I say it." She let her hand wander over his hip and come to rest over his groin. His member was already becoming hard under the cotton. She pressed her hand down, teasing him with her fingers. Immediately he grunted and bucked into her pressure.

"Make love to me, my darling," she whispered into his ear.

Nadir's eyes glazed over with primal lust, as if those were the words he'd been waiting to hear. "Oh, you beautiful woman." He passionately kissed the side of her neck and helped her to stand.

* * *

Erika gripped the stack of pillows under her chest like a vice. The downy cushions were her anchor and support while Nadir was draped over her back. His heavy panting was right beside her ear. His large hands held her shoulders while he eagerly thrust into her again and again. Erika kept her thighs pressed together, increasing the penetration effect for them both.

Her breasts had heightened in sensitivity, and she brought his hands down to cup them – now possible due to their slight enlargement.

"Is this alright?" Nadir panted.

"Thrust downward a bit more," Erika responded.

Nadir forced himself to pause. He lifted himself higher on his knees, pulled out somewhat, and then began his pace again at this new angle.

"Ah!" Erika shuddered, her back arching for a second. "There!"

Nadir pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, now going full force where she wanted. Her slick walls gripped him just as he remembered. He tried to control himself, not wanting to injure her or the baby. Just as well, he wanted to pleasure his beloved as much as possible.

Her legs were trembling. Her jaw hung agape, only letting strangled moans escape. She'd already had a small, silent climax and was desperate for a grand finale. The coil was tightening around her hips, her feet were lifting off the mattress.

He could tell she was about to reach her limit, but he was seconds away from his finish. "Are you...?" he inhaled an uneven breath. "Are..you...?"

"Yes!" Erika's tense body suddenly came loose, writhing between her lover and the pillows. A sharp, incoherent shout left her mouth – she almost didn't recognize it as her own.

Nadir draped his body over her spine, a long groan at the back of his throat as he released into her. His hips weakly thrust with each pump until there was no more to give.

The pair was left in a spent daze for a moment, until Erika tapped Nadir's leg. "Your weight is on me." They separated and lay sprawled on the mattress.

Erika tossed her discarded nightshirt off the bed, too hot to look at anything cotton. It was easy to become overheated in her state. Perhaps jostled, the child in her womb gave a surprisingly strong jab to her intestines. Erika winced and pressed a hand to her side.

"There is no doubt this child is yours," Erika said. "It insists on annoying me."

Nadir chuckled as he rolled onto his side. He pressed himself against her back, massaging her outer thigh. "Excellent, they have common sense."

The two shared a laugh. Nadir kissed her bare shoulder and moved his hand to her hip.

She could tell what Nadir wanted to do. It was what every father-to-be wanted: to feel his unborn child alive and kicking within the womb. With a sigh, Erika took his wrist and placed his hand over where the movement in her abdomen was strongest. It was awkward for her, but this was Nadir's right. It was his babe, after all. A child he was anticipating happily, as if he were expecting it with a blushing wife in a cottage up north – and not with a walking cadaver.

Nadir was silent as – for the first time – he felt the warm, tiny bud of life fluttering under his palm. He was enraptured. It was the first genuine sign of his little one's existence. They were real, and they were right there. His jade eyes glistened, an ecstatic smile on his face.

"Hello, sweet angel." He hadn't intended to say it aloud.

Erika snickered at him. "It can't hear you."

"They can. You'll see."

She ran her fingertips up his arm, feeling the coarse hair. "Could you accompany me home? I'll be needing some items if I'll be staying here until February. That is, if your offer still stands."

"It stands. Though," Nadir lavished her hollow cheek with kisses, "I'd prefer to stay right where I am for now."


	7. Chapter 7: A Timely Start

**Chapter 7: A Timely Start**

The clock on the mantle began the first of twelve chimes. On que, giant flowers of fire sprouted in the night sky, silently blooming before the windows rattled with a delayed _boom.._. _boom_... _bo-boom_. Nadir and Erika watched out the parlor window, the multicolored light flashing over their faces. The pair sat together on the couch in front of the window, Erika leaning back against Nadir's chest with a teacup in her hands. On the coffee table behind them were the leftovers of their dinner.

"Happy New Year," Nadir said out of tradition.

Erika held up her cup, equally unenthused. "Cheers." She drank down the last of the tea, shaking her head at the horrible taste myrtle and chamomile created together.

She could tolerate the taste if the drink gave her what she wanted: relief. Indigestion bothered her after every meal, and her lower spine had a constant, pulling, ache.

"What I wouldn't give for a glass of wine right now," Erika grumbled.

"Actually, some wine sounds lovely." Nadir sat Erika upright and headed for the kitchen.

She raised her eyebrows. "Truly?"

"For me," Nadir added without looking back.

"Ass."

The windowpanes shuddered as the fireworks continued. Erika craned her neck to look up at them. Somewhere, several streets away, the Palais Garnier was having its New Year's Gala. The festivities were surely in full swing now that midnight had struck. Erika had never attended the party, but she had observed it the first years she was living there. Even so, she grieved the fact she wasn't in attendance. That overcrowded, noisy gala was a more appealing place than the apartment.

Snow had started falling in October, often leaving the weather too foul to take a day trip. Erika had been a guest in Nadir's home for three months. She had grown sick of seeing the same wallpaper, the same rooms, and the same furniture day after day. It was rare the weather was calm enough to allow them outside for some fresh air. Erika's porcelain mask – which she'd brought from home specifically for outdoor activities – had been in the bedside drawer for weeks.

Nadir entered with a glass of chardonnay minutes later. He stood back and watched – amused – as Erika tried to stand herself up from the couch. The coffee table was too far from her reach to brace on, and the low armrests couldn't give her the leverage needed to hoist herself up. She was a turtle on its backside.

"Do you need help?" he asked, failing to hide his laugh.

Erika sat back with a sigh, knowing how ridiculous she looked. "Maybe."

It wasn't the first time she'd gotten stuck in her seat. She didn't like to admit it, but it was true that without Nadir she'd be prisoner to the furniture. The Persian man took her by the arms and stood her up like an unbalanced doll.

Nadir had to smirk at the scornful look she gave to her oversized shirt as she adjusted it. He knew she hated its inelegant appearance. Yet, large men's clothing was the only wardrobe that would suit her now. Well, the only clothing Erika wouldn't pitch a fit over wearing. She had recoiled at the mention of buying a maternity dress. A deviant through-and-though.

"I need the washroom," Erika said, nudging past Nadir. "After that I'm going to bed."

She was glad Nadir was distracted by the fireworks as she walked past – or at least, that he was avoiding his eyes on purpose. Her gait had become rather…clumsy…in the past weeks, and it beyond humiliated her. The off-balance stance of carrying a child was about as undignified a stance for the Mirage to be in. At least only one human being had to see her this way...and he was always wise enough never to tease her over it.

Nadir waited until Erika had her back to him. Then, he turned and watched her hurry to the washroom with a slow shake of his head. Erika was now hardly recognizable, her skeletal frame swollen and heavy under the looser-fitting clothes. The difference was like winter and spring. Her body seemed to be holding up stronger than he first expected; but, then again, there was still another four weeks of this for her. Four weeks, at a minimum.

Sipping his drink, Nadir entered the bedroom they now shared. He arranged several pillows into a nest on the bedside closest to the door, where she slept. He tried to ease her discomfort in any way he could, for he knew she was miserable. Lately, it had become impossible for Erika to sleep unless she arranged herself in a very specific position. Yet, even then, there were mornings she would complain about sleepless nights brought on by his child kicking her organs into mince.

Nadir closed the bedroom curtains and stopped to run his hand along the beautiful wicker swing cradle he'd purchased. He'd already lined it with cushions and blankets – and a silver bell rattle sat atop it all, ready to be the child's first toy. He smiled. Another month sometimes felt too long to wait.

Erika trudged into the room and immediately began nestling herself into bed, too tired to change into a nightshirt. She rubbed her hand into the small of her back, trying to massage out the tight strain the muscles were under.

"Your back is still bothering you?" Nadir asked. Erika groaned an affirmative reply.

He tossed back the last little gulp of alcohol and climbed into bed beside her. Rookheya had terrible back pain towards the end of her time, and he'd found a massage that greatly helped. The case was the same with Erika now. Every time she complained about pain, the same technique would ease her tensions. He curled up close to Erika under the blankets and pressed his thumbs hard into the splays of her hips, rubbing small circles into her skin.

Erika hummed a contented note in her throat, hugging a pillow vertically to her torso. Her eyes drifted shut as bit-by-bit the pain melted away. "Thank you."

* * *

The room was dark and the fireworks had ceased the first time Erika woke that night. She heard Nadir's soft rhythm of snores beside her. The desperate need to urinate was what called her awake, so she began the nightly ritual of visiting the washroom in the dark.

She heaved up from the creaking bedframe, groggy and walking through the apartment by touch and memory alone. She yawned, realizing she could take a full breath for the first time in months. That was nice. With her needs taken care of, she snuggled under the three quilts they had on the bed and fell back asleep.

Erika woke the second time to the familiar stabbing pain in her back. She reached around and tried to massage it away, but no working of the muscles would make it disappear. Nadir was still asleep beside her, and she didn't need to wake him just to stop a backache. After lying awake for a few minutes, Erika adjusted to the dull ache in her spine and dozed. She never fully fell asleep again. The dull ache she could tune out ramped up to a tight pinch.

Opening her eyes, Erika could see a soft blue glow from the crack of the curtains. Pre-dawn hours. Erika gave up on sleep for the time being, once again getting up for the washroom.

After lighting the gas lamp in the kitchen to prepare breakfast, she tried stretching her back to relieve the pinching. She felt the ache spring to the front of her hips, and that's where it rooted in deep. Erika took pause – she recognized this pain. The pinch in her back had become a menstrual cramp.

* * *

The alarm rang at eight thirty that morning. Nadir was surprised to find himself alone in bed, but clinking dishes told him where his companion was.

A dozen hard boiled eggs were sitting in a bowl on the dining table. Erika was peeling the shell from one, dropping the white specks onto a plate.

Nadir kissed the top of her head as he shuffled past in his house slippers. "Good morning."

"Good morning," she rushed the greeting. "You were involved with your wife's labor, weren't you?"

The chair Nadir pulled out screeched. "I, uhm...yes, I was until the women of the family arrived." He chuckled and shrugged, seating himself at the table. "Women are the experts on such things."

"Some are," Erika said, adding pepper to the egg white.

They hadn't discussed what would be done when the time came. Nadir had tried to bring it up, but – until now – Erika had been too reluctant to think of it. She was certain of one thing, however: no matter what the process was like, she wouldn't be seeking outside assistance. No one else would know the child came from her, not even a stranger.

Erika drew in a long, silent breath when her abdomen cramped. A glance at the hanging clock told her it was the second time that hour. "Well, if you can't be of any help, I suggest you take a day trip."

"To where?" Nadir asked, cracking apart the shell of his own breakfast egg. "On New Year's Day, nearly every shop is closed." It took a few seconds for something, somewhere, in his brain to connect. His hands went still. "Help with what?"

"There isn't much doubt –" the relief was evident in her voice as the short contraction ended "—that your child will be arriving early."

Nadir reacted like he'd been shot. "It's _too_ early. You shouldn't be feeling any pains yet."

"Well, I hate to spoil your morning, but I am. I have been." Erika sat the peeled egg on the plate, unsure why she bothered to season it when she wasn't hungry. "I thought you said women are the experts."

"This is serious, Erika," Nadir reached across the table and touched her hand. "It shouldn't be time just yet."

"That doesn't matter, my labor has already started." She didn't need his approval of what she knew. She could feel for herself that she was carrying much lower than the day before. "Now, you have two options. You can stay here, or you can leave and collect your child tomorrow morning."

Nadir rested his folded hands against his mouth, eyes closing. He was silent, trying to absorb every memory he had of Reza's birth to arm himself. It was dreadful, how badly those memories were stained with sadness now. "How bad are the pains?" he asked, eyes springing open with a new sense of clarity.

"I don't expect you to understand," Erika said, nudging away her untouched plate, "but they surpass the worst menstrual cramps I've experienced."

"Alright...well, let's get you back into bed. Relaxation should stop the pains."

Erika allowed him to take her arm and stand her. Gravity aggravated her back and put all that horrible weight back on her hips. She was suddenly tense, like a violin string wound too tightly. A contraction sank around her waist like a vice. The muscles in her abdomen tightened into stone.

Nadir noticed the too-tight hold she had on the chair, the slight way she doubled over. He recognized the posture before the small groan left her mouth. Gently, he placed his hands on her hips and squeezed; a method that had eased Rookheya's pain once.

"Third time this hour," Erika grumbled. She winced as the contraction peaked and a needle-sharp pain stabbed her from within. "I don't think these will be stopping."

Panic was seeping into Nadir's skin. The situation seemed more real by the minute; but he didn't move and didn't speak until he felt her body unwind. "I'm phoning a doctor."

He turned to leave, but Erika seized the collar of his nightshirt and jerked him back. A few of the seams popped.

"No, you are not," she said. "As far as anyone outside these walls will know, you'll be raising a foundling. As far as this child will know, flowers will be growing from their mother's ashes."

"Are you mad?!"

"You should know by now." Erika kept her hand on the wall as she continued down the hallway. "Would you rather bring in someone who has never seen the likes of me? Someone who would tell his co-eds about the living dead woman he helped deliver? The papers would love to sell such a story, wouldn't they?"

Nadir's mouth was dry.

"As I said before," Erika continued, "you're free to leave if you wish."

Nadir caught up to her just as she opened the bedroom door. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, carefully hugging her to his chest. He was sure she could hear his frantic heart beating against his ribs.

"A valiant attempt to be rid of me," he said, running his hands down her back, "but this is where I'll stay. Purely to spite you."

Erika grinned and embraced him in return. "For once, I'm glad you're spiteful."


	8. Chapter 8: New Year's Arrival

**Chapter 8: New Year's Arrival**

Erika leaned heavy into the bedroom wall, forgetting how to support herself as pain possessed her body. Nadir had his hands against her hips in an instant. He felt her muscles coiling under his palms.

"Breathe through it," he softly reminded.

The contractions hadn't stopped like he'd hoped. Gray mid-afternoon sunlight now bleached the world outside, and the pain was only getting more intense. When a new contraction started, it kept its claws in her for longer than the one before it. Now, it seemed Nadir's massage was doing very little to help.

It was difficult to find the presence of mind to slow her breathing, but Erika managed until she could relax again. Her fists unclenched against the wallpaper. She unbuttoned the collar of her nightshirt. Her skin was sweltering. The icy draft seeping from the window was wonderful to feel.

Nadir took her hand. "I think that's enough pacing. Will you at last lie down and relax?"

Erika side-eyed him and shook her head.

He sighed, and noticed her face was starting to shine with sweat. "Would you like a cold rag?"

A nod.

"And perhaps a drink of water?"

Another nod. She said absolutely nothing. She hadn't said a word in two hours.

That was her survival method: silence. When the fear – or the pain – was too much, her voice ceased to work. It had allowed her to hide from a drunken mother as a small child. It had kept her obedient and safe from beatings as carnie property. She very much knew it saved her life the night...the night her virginity was stolen from her. Most importantly, silence made her a deadly ally to the Shah – and it aided her in escaping his clutches. Silence was safety. If only she could remain quiet, everything would be alright.

Nadir brought her hand to his lips. "I won't be long."

As soon as the bedroom door shut behind him, Nadir began readying himself for prayer. He hadn't prayed diligently since Reza's death, and surely Allah was furious with him. But perhaps, with enough penance, he could be forgiven. He had no other choice. Prayer was all he could offer Erika and the child about to be born.

Terror pricked his every nerve as he bowed in the center of his rug, in the presence of his god for the first time in years. In his native tongue, he begged. He begged, not only forgiveness of his sins, but for the lives of the only two loved ones he had left.

Erika heard Nadir's prayers, understood every word of what he asked for...and knew she wasn't going to be getting a drink of water anytime soon.

In his absence, she tried to prepare before the next wave of pain arrived. She was able to make it to the bed before her legs gave out under the force of another contraction. It snuck up much sooner than she was expecting. She had to bite down on a corner of the blanket to keep herself from crying out.

She had an impressive tolerance for pain – desensitized over years of abuse. She had continued walking on a fractured ankle. She had sewn up her wounds with needle and thread. As a young teenager, she had broken her own wrist to escape her bonds.

Yet, this level of agony was _nothing_ she had known before. It died and came back stronger, like a phoenix impaling her with scalding talons.

Sitting was unbearable because of the pressure in her hips and lying down did nothing except make her restless. She settled on hands and knees atop the mattress, rocking her hips as if that would stop the pain. She just wanted the horrible process to be over with, so she could pretend it never happened to begin with.

She lost track of time, slipping into a trance as she listened to the sung prayers through the wall. Those prayers. She loved listening to them while in Persia. Back when Nadir would pray five times a day, Erika would sit outside the room and listen without him knowing. The prayers held a hypnotic effect, and now Erika lost herself in the sound of Nadir's voice while bracing through several more contractions.

It was a moderate flood, like a heavy menstrual flow; but the change it brought was immediate and intense. With the release of her waters, something shifted to sit dangerously low in her pelvis.

" _Nadir!_ "

The scream from the other room ripped Nadir from his prayers and damn near stopped his heart. He sprung to his feet and was in the bedroom in seconds. "What's wrong?!"

Erika couldn't answer before her breath was taken by the most intense contraction she'd felt. She curled around herself – shuddering with all the frightening and overwhelming sensations happening at once.

Nadir was petrified to the spot. He watched in helpless horror as his beloved was tortured by her own body. He had only the most basic of insight as to what happened to women in the later stages. They'd crossed that threshold, and the realization crashed over him what was about to happen. He ran to do what should have been done earlier.

He returned with a full washbasin, a ladle, and fresh linens over his arm. The first thing he did once his hands were free was offer Erika a drink from the ladle, which she impatiently took.

"Leave me again," Erika snarled, glaring him in the eye, "and I swear I will...I will..." Her eyes glimmered with collecting tears, and the glare softened into a pleading gaze. "Don't leave me again."

It was all Nadir could do not to lose his composure right then. "I'm here," he said, brushing the length of her hair over her shoulder. "I'm here."

He wrung a small cloth in the cool water and draped it over the back of her neck. "You should lie down."

Erika shook her head. "No, this feels right." She lowered her weight onto her forearms as another contraction started. She could no longer ignore the building pressure, and she screamed behind closed lips as – finally – she pushed against it.

"You're alright." Nadir sat on the edge of the bed, his hand on the small of her back. He felt every fiber of her body working to expel the child. "Do what you must."

Perhaps it was delirium – or insanity – but in that moment of extreme pain, Erika's only concern was what would happen if the babe didn't make it.

Would Nadir hate her, for killing another of his children?

Erika couldn't have the blood of another child on her hands, she simply couldn't. Reza's death tore her asunder, even if it was in the name of mercy.

This child's death would have no excuse. The thought of innocence dying inside her – poisoned by her deformed body – made her feel ill.

The pain faded, and Erika's mind returned to her as she released her held breath. She tugged at the open collar of the nightshirt, sitting to rest on her heels.

"Oh," she gasped, realizing the quilt was dampened under her. As it turned out, not all her water had been released in one flow. "I'm sorry."

Nadir spread a linen towel under her. "Sheets can always be cleaned," he muttered, trying to keep his voice low to hide its tremor. "Ignore the sheets."

He dutifully stood at the bedside, offering support in any way he could. Despite the encouragement he would whisper, and the ladles of water he would offer, he had never felt so useless in his life. There was little to no time between Erika's fits anymore. To both, there seemed to be no end of it in sight. Until:

"Wet it," Erika snatched the cloth from her neck and tossed it at Nadir.

Nadir obeyed and went to drape it back in place. Instead, Erika stole it from his grip and slipped it under the skirt of her nightwear. "Why are you-?"

"Because I'm on fire!" she cried, bearing down again. Something pressed out further into her hand, and she drew it away in a panic.

Everything happened so suddenly after that. The hem of the nightshirt was tied around her waist, revealing bright spots of blood on the towel. Erika clung to Nadir's arms to keep herself upright. Her fingernails left crescents in his skin. One hand still held the dripping rag, occasionally holding it to her mouth to muffle the strangled screaming.

Dread compelled her to keep her eyes shut. She could feel her body opening around the child's head in ways she didn't want to see. Her eyes would remain shut for the rest of the day if need be. She didn't want to see the child. She didn't want the wave of disgust and loathing she would feel. She didn't want to know how her genes had ruined the child's life.

A sudden slip and small release of pressure broke her focus. She opened her eyes and tears spilled down her face. Her breath was shallow and uneven. Nadir kissed her temple, beard tickling her cheek.

"They're almost here," he whispered against her ear. "You've done so well."

She'd been so primal in her focus; she hadn't noticed the sheet being held against her inner thigh. Nor how Nadir positioned his hands in the same place.

Erika took a moment to rest her head against his shoulder. A shiver traveled through her, although she wasn't cold. A low growl escaped her lips as she started to contract, and she forced her remaining energy down into a last desperate effort.

For a few seconds there was a horrific, tearing pain. Then, a give – and in one rush of movement and water, it was done. Nadir produced a quivering shout as he guided the child into his hands. No doubt a sound of shock, now that he'd seen what monster he'd fathered.

Erika kept her glazed-over eyes on the far wall, drunk on relief and too exhausted to think. Just inches from her, Nadir was sobbing and shouting in Persian. However, she heard his words and realized – they were shouts of praise and thanks, not distress.

She heard a tiny cough, and then a shrill, lustful cry.

Without a thought, she looked down.

Suddenly, there was a third person in the room. A small, grey person covered in waxy vernix and tangled in a blue cord of flesh. Nadir was toweling dry a head of thick black hair. Little hands of five fingers, and little feet of five toes flailed in the air – while a scrunched-up face screamed its arrival to the whole apartment. A healthy, perfectly complete, little boy.

Unsure what she was doing, Erika took hold of the slippery cord and untangled it from around the infant. Surprised, Nadir looked up at her. She had enough attention to notice fresh tears on his cheeks, but her focus was on the newborn.

Nadir almost panicked when Erika scooped his son into her hands. For a fraction of a second, he feared she was about to do something rash; but the expression on her face put him at ease. However, the Mirage had never held an infant in her life. Nadir quickly supported his son's head as Erika pulled him into her arms.

"Mind his head," he said, adjusting Erika's hold on the slick newborn. He stood there in astonishment, overwhelmed and confused by Erika's actions. He eyed her like a hawk, watching for any sign that she was about to cause the infant harm. And yet...the sight of his beloved, cradling their child to her body as gently as she could, blurred that watchful eye with tears.

Erika was none the wiser of her intentions. She was just overcome by the need to hold this child. This astonishing, perfect miniature human screaming in her arms. Her thumb wiped away white vernix from his eyebrow. He was velvet soft and so, so warm.

Nadir covered him with the bloodied towel and stepped back to compose himself, drying his eyes on his sleeves. Erika watched him, bewildered to see him act in such a way. It wasn't until Nadir wiped her eyes with the damp rag that she realized...she was in no better shape. Why was she suddenly sobbing?

In her mind, Erika meant to ask that very question when she drew in a breath. Instead, the question that came out was: "We made this?"

Nadir laughed through his tears and pressed a kiss to her lips. "We did, my love. We did."


	9. Chapter 9: The First Time

**Chapter 9: The First Time**

Nadir bent and whispered into his son's ear. As he spoke, the infant's screams lowered into the most pitiful whimper Erika had heard. Nadir kissed his forehead several long times before straightening.

"What did you say?" Erika asked. Her voice was hoarse.

"An adhan," Nadir answered. "A call to prayer. It's what a father must do." He caressed his son's damp mop of hair. His entire palm fit over the supple, elongated head. "I told you he would remember my voice."

Watching him emerge into the world was the most terrifying and incredible event he'd witnessed. He'd feared Erika's hips were too narrow, too fragile. Yet, it appeared the early labor was a blessing in disguise. The child was small, noticeably thinner than Reza had been. Had he waited longer to make his arrival, there could have been trouble.

Pride overflowed his chest the longer he looked upon his son – who gave another unhappy cry and curled his body into a bean shape. "Thank you," he said softly, kissing Erika's temple. "Thank you. From the bottom of my soul, thank you."

"I...I don't know what to do," Erika said. She shifted the baby and felt a tug between her legs. They were still connected by the cord. "What should I do?"

"Rest," Nadir said, using the wet cloth to wash the sweat from her face and neck. "You've done your part. Leave everything else to me."

Nadir reached to take the infant, but to his ever-increasing surprise, Erika shrank from his touch.

"Not yet," she murmured. "Not until we're separated. Then, he's yours."

"I won't force him from you," Nadir said, lowering himself to her side. His thumb stroked her jutting cheekbone. "You may hold him as long as you wish." He grinned and pressed a tender kiss to her mouth. "I love you."

Erika could only nod with a pinched smile. Her renewed tears fell across Nadir's hand. The room felt surreal, as though she'd been consumed by a heavy fever. The weight of the newborn in her arms felt unnatural, like it still belonged in the cradle of her hips. Could giving birth be counted as losing a body part?

Color was coming into the babe's skin the more he cried air into his lungs. His hands had taken on a red hue, and it was spreading up his grey arms and into his face. Erika had never seen a person change color. A living person, at least.

Erika took a corner of the towel draped over the child and began cleaning him. She watched every twitch of his mottled face as she swiped womb wax from his nose and around his eyes. A part of her mind expected his features to start coming off on the linen.

Nadir gently took Erika's hand, stopping it. "Be mindful of his skin, love. He's delicate."

Erika paused to watch the baby boy stretch out his limbs, curious of all the new space. His small, black eyes struggled to blink open, but the sunlight through the curtains seemed too much for them.

"Take him," she said, setting the soiled towel aside. "Quickly. I don't want the first thing he sees to be me."

Nadir's hands made their first skin-to-skin contact with his babe. He almost fell again to weeping as, for the first time, he took the child in his arms. He seemed even smaller against Nadir's body. "Welcome, my little one. How long I've waited to see you."

Once again, the baby settled into quiet whimpering, curled up in Nadir's hold. An impossibly small hand gripped his shirt.

"You see?" Erika said. "Happier with you, even now."

"He's worn himself out," Nadir said, smiling down. "Birth is as hard on him as it is for you."

Erika felt the gush of blood down her legs before she saw it stain the sheets. She said nothing, just groaned in discomfort when her stomach cramped again. It felt especially sharp, now that her body was used up to nothing.

Nadir noticed the scarlet flow and, for a moment, his blissful smile vanished. The next second, he'd composed himself. "The afterbirth comes next," he said. "Blood is...expected."

"If you insist."

Taking the candle from the nightstand, Nadir allowed the flame to burn through the infant's cord. It created an odd odor, but cauterized the small length still attached. More important: it finally separated Erika from the child. At long, long last, her ordeal was over.

Erika watched Nadir stand and place the baby in the shallow bowl of water on the nightstand. The little one hardly made a noise, perhaps soothed by the familiar environment. He stretched his arms high over his head, startled when Nadir palmed water over his belly.

To distract herself from the – rather painful – process of waiting for the afterbirth, Erika tried to make conversation. "Where you hoping for a son?"

"I could not have cared less about that," Nadir said, adjusting his support of the child's head. "He's alive, and that's all I prayed for."

"You can admit it. I won't be offended."

Nadir offered her a kind smile. "I wasn't afraid of the possibility. Yes, I _am_ relieved...but he's my son."

"You aren't the only one relieved."

Erika waited until Nadir took his eyes off her to start tugging on the remaining cord, trying to dislodge the afterbirth faster. With a squelch, the purple-red organ slipped from her and the cramping faded for good. She wrapped it in all the bloodied and damp sheets and shoved it to the corner of the mattress. No longer able to hold herself upright, she flopped onto her side. The adrenaline faded and all the pain was catching up to her.

Her vision was growing foggy with exhaustion, but the second her body hit the mattress she felt Nadir grab her shoulder.

"Are you alright?!"

She looked up to see Nadir once more at her side, holding a bundle of fresh linens that she could assume wrapped his son. "I'm not dying, if that's your question." She shrugged his hand off and closed her eyes, longing for sleep.

Nadir's heart was in his throat. He didn't want to alarm her, but there was still blood coming. And he couldn't let her sleep, not yet. Not until he knew she would wake up again. "I think you may be injured. I'm just...not sure what to look for." He hadn't been able to see anything wrong the last time there was blood. No one had.

Erika sighed, sluggishly pulling herself onto the pillows. "Get me a mirror. I'll see for myself the damage you've done."

She was lent a hand mirror from the bathroom vanity. Once she saw the open, bleeding tear she requested a needle and thread. While she saw to herself, the babe was dressed and swaddled by his father.

While washing the dry red stains from her legs, Erika heard Nadir muttering to the child in his arms. It was in his native tongue, and much of what he said was too soft to pick up – even in the otherwise silent bedroom. Then, one phase met her ears:

" _Oh, how your brother would have loved you."_

Erika wasn't meant to hear it, but she had. "Nadir..."

He turned to her, his face dry but his eyes glistening.

She motioned him closer, lowering the hem of her nightshirt back over her knees. "Will you tell him about Reza, when he can understand?"

Nadir smiled, but his eyes immediately spilled over. "I'll tell him of his brother long before that, and long after. He will know every detail."

He had tried to stop the thoughts, the speculations, from entering his mind. Yet, in the end, Nadir had the entire vision of his Reza – he would have been eleven that year – in the room with them, excitedly peering on tip-toe to see the babe in his father's arms. He would have been overjoyed to have a younger brother to spend his lonely days with. An entire life that would never be flashed before his eyes, and then was gone.

"Did you entertain any names?" Erika asked, crawling beneath the covers.

Nadir beamed. "I have. In fact, I've known his name for a while."

"Tell me."

"It's tradition not to announce until the seventh day of life," Nadir explained. He gave a sigh. "And yet, I have no one else to announce it to."

He once again set his hand over his son's head. "His name is Izad."

"Izad." Erika tried the sound of it in her mouth. "Izad."

"Yes. Izad Mir Reza Khan."

"Mmm," Erika could only mutter a sound in response, already drifting away to sleep.

* * *

It was a fretful sleep, and it was broken an hour later by piercing wails outside the bedroom door. Erika growled and covered her ears, but the incessant sound didn't stop. She could hear Nadir's voice, but didn't give a damn what he was saying to the bastard.

"Erika?"

A shiver of disgust shot up her back when the door clicked open and the crying entered the room. Erika ground her teeth and kept her ears covered.

"Erika?"

"What?" She growled, deep and angry, between her teeth. She cracked open her eyes to see Nadir at the bedside.

"I didn't wish to wake you, truly. I wasn't going to ask anything of you. Yet, I have a dilemma on my hands."

"And?"

"It's late afternoon, nearly dark, and with the snow and ice..." he sounded very hesitant to get to his reason for interrupting her rest. "I'm not stepping outside these walls with him. He would catch his death."

Erika glared up at him, her jaw set. "Then go to a church doorstep in the morning, you idiot."

"I can't let him go hungry for the night, Erika."

It took a few seconds to register, but when it did Erika stared at him, aghast. "No."

"For tonight, and never again. Please."

"There's nothing in my breasts," Erika protested. "He will go hungry either way."

"Then at least try," Nadir was practically begging her. "It may, at the very least, settle him to sleep until morning."

Erika pulled herself up against the headboard, a hand closed around the collar of her nightshirt. "If he continues to scream, I'm forcing you outside to buy a sedative."

"Agreed, I'll give you anything if you help him." Nadir struck a match against the bedpost and lit the candle.

In the enhanced light, Erika dared to look at Nadir's son. Izad's face was beet purple, no doubt screaming for longer than Erika had been awake. It startled her to see how much stress his tiny body was under. She exhaled a long, fatigued breath. Before she could allow herself to think, she unbuttoned her nightshirt.

Nadir unwrapped Izad from the swaddle and laid him face-down against Erika's bare chest. Izad sensed the warmth of another body – or, perhaps, a familiar heartbeat – and went silent.

"Is this how Rookheya did it?" she asked, almost leaning away from the contact with the newborn.

"The very few times she did, yes." Nadir came around to his side of the bed to lay beside them. "It appeared to work itself out."

Izad wriggled around, as if trying to hoist himself up on limbs too weak to do anything yet. Unsure of herself, Erika put a hand under his rear and guided him closer to her breast. For a few seconds he nuzzled around, searching. Then, by instinct, he latched onto her and began suckling.

"There you go, little one," Nadir grinned. He kissed Erika's concave cheek. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"You're not the one needing to be humiliated like this," Erika said, rolling her eyes. "And it's not pleasant."

Her chest was swollen and sore, and the act of nursing worsened both. The breast Izad was on burned from the inside out; but it kept him quiet, except for small squeaking breaths and an occasional grunt.

The sun dimmed to twilight outside. The candle on the nightstand became the main source of light. Erika sat still against the headboard, waiting on Izad to fall asleep so she could do the same. Those black, watery eyes looked up at her in what could have been wonder. Clean and pampered, his cheeks were full and rosy. His thick, black hair reminded her of kitten's fur. She carefully ran her fingers over his scalp, feeling the texture of that heavenly soft down.

A scent met her open nasal passage, and she mistook it for lye soap. But it was too organic, like a body smell...but somehow sweet. Leaning closer, she realized the source was Izad's skin.

Nadir chuckled when she sniffed the baby's hair. It was something he had seen several women do in his time. "I've heard some women claim they could recognize their child purely by scent," he said.

Erika didn't reply. She simply took a small inhale from against Izad's hair, her eyes fluttering shut. The scent of him was nothing she'd experienced, and on some primal level it was intoxicating. A new, warm sensation filled her breasts, and Izad became much more content. Barely audible gulps replaced his frustrated grumbles.

Resting her head back, Erika glanced towards Nadir and sighed. "There shouldn't be anymore need for a wet nurse, I suppose."

"Are you certain?"

She gave a half-hearted chuckle. "I doubt I will be able to walk home this time tomorrow." She touched her open breast, and it was warm and firm. "And what perfect timing for my milk to come in."

"And so," Nadir hesitated, "you wish to stay here?"

"I'll nurse him for a while," Erika said. "I may as well. Should I return home in this state, I could hardly perform my duties." She smirked over at Nadir. "You see what you've put me though?"

"And yet," Nadir laughed, "how many times have you complained this is _our_ doing?"

"Well, if fate demanded that I make him..." Erika, for the first time, smiled down at Izad. "...I'm thankful I made him with you."


	10. Chapter 10: Little Reminders

**(** **Content Warning:** **Non-graphic descriptions of sexual assault. As an aside, thirteen was considered a legal adult in 1800's France.)**

 **Chapter 10: Little Reminders**

 _To the Carnival Master's credit, he never let anything uncouth happen to his young performers. The man at least had_ _some_ _moral compass. There had been times, after "The Faceless Girl" would perform her little song on-stage, that people could pay an extra few francs to see her up close; but only under the watch of the Master. Many, many were curious. They poked and pulled and picked at her face, just to prove it wasn't some trick. That was allowed. A few asked questions: "What's your name?" "Where are your parents?" She was not allowed to answer._

 _But from time to time there would be another question asked: "How much for her?"_

 _The answer was always the same: "I take no offers until she is a woman."_

 _Then whoever it was that asked (always a man) was immediately escorted outside._

 _When she was thirteen years of age, she had her first bleed. Ashamed and afraid, she hid it for as long as she could. But there's only so much blood one can hide until it stains something. Now that she was a woman, there were no protections. Within a year of her first bleed, that same question came again after the last show of the night:_

" _How much for her?"_

 _And, this time, the answer was: "Seventy-five francs for one half-hour." And, of course, the Master insisted he be there to watch._

 _While the carnival was still aglow with torches, and the rest of the carnies were wrapping up their acts, Erika and her 'customer' were taken to the back of the show tent. The only resistance Erika dared put up was to push the 'customer' away when he started to undress her. For the rest of the half-hour, she was bound by the wrists to a tent post. The Master stood over them, lighting up the scene with a lantern in his hand. And it hurt. And it hurt. And it hurt._

 _The 'customer' finished inside her and left. She wasn't untied. A huge, rough hand closed over her throat, daring her to make a sound. And it was her Master pushing his too-large member inside. And it hurt. And it hurt. And it hurt. Oh, god, it hurt!_

* * *

A scream ripped from Erika's chest. She swung her pointed elbow at the assailant squeezing her arm, and it connected. Still screaming, she kicked at the dark – even as large hands pinned her wrists together. The hands became arms that wrapped around her torso, pulling her tight to someone's thumping chest – someone beside her in bed. Someone who felt familiar.

"You're safe, Erika. Be still." Nadir's voice brought her around – made her realize she'd been asleep. "You're safe."

A shrill crying started in the corner of the lightless room. Erika followed its lead, covering her face to sob into her hands.

Nadir kissed her neck, holding her firm to his body so she wouldn't thrash about. His temple throbbed where her elbow connected, and he was seeing stars. Torn between comforting his lover and comforting his son, Nadir squeezed Erika against him before climbing out of bed to light a candle.

He went straight to the wicker swing cradle. Izad kicked his feet under his nursing gown, and his body was in that angry bean shape Nadir was already recognizing. It seemed he'd been startled out of sleep, and was none too pleased.

Scooping up his babe, Nadir crawled back into bed to comfort both of his lovelies at once. He hummed a soft melody while propping Izad against his shoulder. He rubbed soothing circles against his back, and the wiggling newborn began to settle.

With the room quiet, Erika felt herself coming around. She sat up, drying her face on the sheets. Her stinging and puffy eyes burned with the candlelight.

For three days she'd been in debilitating pain. When she needed the washroom, she required assistance from Nadir to stand and walk that short distance. Any amount of gravity made her organs feel like they would tumble out in a giant prolapse.

In the days that followed her assault, the bodily pain she suffered was comparable. It was no mystery why she had woken, thinking the act had just been carried out.

"Forgive me for waking you," Erika said, wiping the watery runoff from her nasal passage.

"I was never asleep," Nadir said.

It was the third night since the birth, and he had forced himself to keep vigil beside her. She was motionless as a corpse when she slept; her breathing, the only proof she was alive. He had listened to her every breath, praying it wouldn't go silent. When she started whimpering and struggling in her sleep, he thought she was having a fit and immediately woke her. It may have taken a head injury to realize she'd been having a night terror, but it relieved him to know she wasn't at death's door.

Nadir continued to rub Izad's back. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Erika tried to pull her knees to her chest, but her torso was stiff. "Why does blood make me a woman?"

"Hmm?"

"Every steppingstone in my life is marked by blood," Erika continued, mostly muttering to herself while tugging her hair. "I bleed, suddenly I'm a woman. I bleed, my virginity's been taken. I bleed while giving birth, and even now I bleed for days after."

Nadir listened in silence, unsure what to say.

Erika looked at Izad, his cheek smushed against Nadir's shoulder. She ran a few fingers down the pudgy curve of his face, enjoying his velvety texture. The newborn turned his face into her hand by reflex, eyes barely open. There was no need to fear him seeing her face, he wouldn't be able to remember it.

"I know what my Master was trying to do," she said to no one. "I know why he waited until I was a woman to turn me into a whore."

Nadir glanced at her without jostling Izad too much. "Erika...Allah keep you." He didn't know every detail of her past, but he knew of her slavery in broad terms. He could only assume the abuse she'd suffered in those years – because she refused to speak of specific memories. He had his suspicions, but not to such an extent. "You never told me."

"I doubted you would think less of me, if you knew now," she said, keeping her eyes on the baby. "If I was a gambler, I would bet my life on this; he was hoping to breed me like a heifer."

Nadir's heart ached for her. The more he learned of her life, the more it broke.

"It makes perfect financial sense," Erika continued, petting Izad's messy hair. "Charge men to father another eyesore, then charge to have people see it once it's born. It's genius, really." She was quiet for a while. "I only wonder what could've happened, had a child of mine _not_ been deformed."

Erika held out her arms. "May I hold him?"

"Of course."

Izad was passed, and Erika laid him on her chest. The contact between mother and child had been minimal those first three days. The babe was cradled in her arms only to feed and was then promptly handed back to his father. Erika hadn't held him quite like this before. She rested the sinew of her missing cheek atop his head, while her arms curled around his body like a nest.

"Don't look at me like that," she said, noticing the grin on Nadir's face. "He is profoundly comforting to hold."

What drove her to hold him, truly? Was it to prove he was safe; not about to be taken and drowned because he was healthy? Maybe it was whatever delirium insisted he go to her arms while he took his first breaths. It could've been a habit she was forming, an assumption that every time he cried at night it was because he needed her.

Needed her.

No one had needed her before. Not like the child did. It was the natural, most meek form of need on Earth.

But, also the most basic. Once she disappeared, he would be content as long as he had a breast to suckle on. His little world wouldn't stop turning because of a face he would immediately forget.

Nadir chuckled, watching his son yawn and settle back into sleep against his mother's heart. "I'm enjoying the sight while it lasts," he said, a pang of sadness biting him. "So...the end of the week?"

Erika nodded, Izad's hair brushing the over-sensitive skin of her deformity. "I expect to be well enough to walk by then."

So it would seem. Nadir would still lose his family. Though, this time, not through death.

Mimicking what Nadir had done, Erika placed her hand over Izad's back. "I may sound like a romantic," Erika said, her voice above a whisper, "but I'm happy he was conceived from an act of love...however drunken it was."

Nadir put his arm around her shoulders. "I as well."

He looked down at his lover and child. Erika was holding Izad with stiff arms, as though she feared him rolling off her chest like a tiny Fabergé egg. Erika's eyes were fighting to stay open.

Nadir held his hands out in offering. "Shall I take him back?"

Erika hesitated. "Let him sleep for a moment."

* * *

A 'moment' became an hour. By then, Erika had fallen asleep with her temple against Nadir's shoulder. Nadir looked to the alarm clock on the nightstand. The candle had almost burned itself out, but he could see it was six-forty-one in the morning. No use trying to rest.

He saw Izad sucking on his small fist in his sleep. He would be wanting to nurse soon. Nadir knew that signal by heart; Reza had done the same thing when hungry. In fact, the more he looked at Izad, the more he saw Reza as a new baby. But it was only Izad's fourth day of life. For all he knew, Izad would grow to have Erika's temperament...and Allah help him if that was the case.

Yet, for the time being, Izad was a sleepy baby. He would wake up – often when one or both parents were asleep – to cry for milk or a change. Then, right back to dreaming he would go – if he could dream.

At least with Izad, Nadir wasn't on a constant paranoia about every gesture and sound. He'd had those days of early fatherhood; when nothing made sense and he felt helpless...he _was_ helpless. He had been alone, with only a cousin he could call on to act as a wet nurse.

He was ready to do it alone, this time. And, this time, he would do things right.

Izad stirred with a low whine, and Nadir knew what needed to happen. He waited. The second Izad let out a wail, Nadir was out of bed and setting up a fresh candlestick.

Erika startled awake, the shrieking baby in her ear. Covering her eyes with a cold hand, she groaned and shifted against the headboard. "What does he want?" she groaned.

"The same thing he's wanted every morning."

"Right."


End file.
